Losing Control
by mysticmonkey86
Summary: Blaine Anderson is a free man and desperately trying to adjust to life on the outside. Jailed as a fifteen year old teenager and let out as a bitter man in his late twenties, can he ever put his demons behind him and start a new life? Can anyone help him change or is it too late?
1. Chapter 1

My eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight as a burly prison guard dragged me to the big metal gates and pushed me out. He wiped his hands on his trousers as if I were a dirty stain he was trying to erase. I blinked a few times, my eyes watering as I looked at my surroundings. I was a free man. I didn't know how I felt about that. The only thing I ever really felt these days was anger. I had a rage inside me that ran so deep, it wouldn't surprise me if I ended up back inside in a matter of days.

I looked down at the pitiful plastic bag in my hand that contained everything I owned. Two sweaters, four t-shirts, two pairs of pants, five sets of underwear, a toothbrush and an out of date passport that expired nearly ten years ago. I put my hand in my pocket, jangling the set of keys that were for my new home. Home was a loose term. For the foreseeable future, home to me would be a motel on the outskirts of town that housed hardened criminals like myself. Some of us had homes to go to, some of us had families that would welcome us back after years inside. Unfortunately, I wasn't one of them. I had nothing. I had nobody. Before I got sent down, everything in my life had turned to shit, so now I was on some rehabilitation course. I had to learn how to be a normal human again. Signing on the dotted line for this course meant that I had to follow the rules imposed on me, it was one of the many conditions placed on me ahead of my release. It made me mad to think about how I would have to agree and bow down to the powers above me for years to come. I had served my time, why couldn't they just let me enjoy my freedom and leave me be?

I checked the tag on the keys I had been given for the motel room, noticing that I recognized the address. I used to sometimes go to the little candy shop on the corner of this road when I was younger. Before I was left inside to rot.

As I walked along, I already felt drained. My feet felt sore against the unfamiliar ground. Back at the prison, we were allowed fresh air time for one hour a day, but the ground there had been squishy and un-natural. Like some sort of sporting turf.

As well as my few belongings in the small plastic bag, I had what I was wearing. My only pair of shoes, black sneakers with holes in them from years of being worn. I had black jeans on with a rip right across the left knee-cap and a black tatty t-shirt that had been stained with bleach from years of cleaning at the jail. If you were in the right frame of mind for it, you were allowed a job. I picked cleaning. For four hours a day, every day, I would wipe, scrub and polish the whole jail from top to bottom. I earned a few measly dollars a week, but I always kept it going. I needed the cash for my smokes.

I gave myself a little shake as I realized that smoking had been the only worthwhile thing in my life for years. It kept me going. It was my only joy in life. Every time I got beat by a fellow inmate or even at times, a prison guard, I would close my eyes and tell myself I could get through it so I could have a cigarette. Pathetic.

I kicked a stone into the gutter as I walked along a busy road. Not much had changed during my time away. I was expecting everything to look different, but it all looked familiar. I was only a fifteen year old boy when I got sent down, so much had changed in twelve years. And yet, so much hadn't. The only difference I could see were bigger, fancier cars.

I had heard stories of people being released from prison and skipping merrily on their way to a new and great life. I had heard about the joy in their hearts and the smile on their faces as they faced their future as a 'better man'. It was a load of bullshit. I didn't feel like that. I felt pained. I didn't belong to this suddenly noisy, polluted world anymore. The problem was, I didn't really belong anywhere. I ran a hand through my unruly black curls and hurried down the long stretch of road for ten minutes with my head down.

As I reached the end of the busy road I had to take a left turn down a little street which led through to an alleyway. As I made my way down, two huge tattooed men with bald heads were loitering down there, blocking the path for any on-comers. I shook my head in disbelief as I watched one of them brazenly snort something up his nose in the cold light of day, not caring if anyone saw him or not. I had a feeling they were ex convicts as the motel was just at the end of the alley. I lowered my head, walking purposely towards them, hoping they would get the hint to move. I learned years ago never to look anyone in the eye, It only led to trouble. Their massive frames took up the whole alley as I squeezed by them.

"Oh, look what we have here. A newbie."

I carried on walking, hearing them curse as I passed by them. No matter how angry they got, or how close they came, the key was to always, always keep your head down. I honestly couldn't count the number of beatings I had in the first few years in prison just for looking at someone the wrong way...or even just for looking at all. Sometimes, I got beat so bad, that I lay there in my own blood absolutely convinced I was dying. I prayed for it. I prayed to just have it all end. I spent many nights hoping that one day, one of the thugs would take it too far so there was no going back for me.

The brutes that had been blocking the way in the alley soon disappeared and in no time at all I was in the motel parking lot. I looked at the shabby brown building that housed the tiny pokey rooms with disgust. The place was such a dive it made jail look like a five star hotel.I walked to the grim looking front entrance to be greeted inside by a miserable skinny woman who looked at least eighty. Even though I had the keys to my room, I had to check in and sign some paper work. As I was still under the authorities care, I had to follow the rules or end up on the streets. Or even worse, back inside.

"Blaine Anderson."

My voice croaked with the strain of talking. I wasn't used to speaking to anyone. It seemed like an effort to even open my mouth these days.

She grunted at me, then turned away to get some things out of a filing cabinet. Her back was hunched, her hair was grey and she had wrinkles even on the back of her neck. She slammed some books on the desk in front of her, then slapped some paperwork on top.

"Sign this paperwork here, then take the books to your room and read them carefully. Follow the rules or you will be back where you belong. Scum like you shouldn't have a chance anyway, you are all disgusting."

I snatched the pen of the desk, taking the lid off with my teeth and spitting it on the floor. The old woman raised an eyebrow, looking at me with contempt. I signed my name away on the same ones I had just signed for in jail. Until I was making my own money and could rent my own place, I had to stay in this hole. I had to be back in my room every night by ten and attend all the courses I had agreed to do.

The chances of me getting a job were slim to none, I had no grades or qualifications as I never finished school. So the only chance I had to get some low wage shitty job was to get my head down and do these courses. It was just a part of my life that I would now be treated like garbage by everyone, including the old lady who was still staring at me like I was shit on her shoe.

I grabbed the books I had to take and made my way out of the grimy office, slamming the door shut behind me. I checked the tag again on my keys. Number thirty seven was up one set of rickety metal stairs. I unlocked the door, choking as soon as the smell hit me. It smelt like somebody had died in here or something. I rushed over to the one tiny square window, opening it as wide as it would go.

It really was no better than a cell. A tiny wooden bed that looked like it would collapse with a grown man in it next to a broken chest of drawers. The mattress on the bed was so thin and wiry that I may as well have been sleeping on the ground. The blankets were itchy and moth ridden. There was a small shower and toilet cubicle that were barely big enough to stand up in. A few cupboards and dirty looking kitchen sink made up the rest of the room. I groaned as I flopped down on the bed, hurting my ass in the process. This bed might as well have been made of nails.

I grabbed the books, ready to read all the information on the courses I would have to attend at the nearby offenders college. They all looked boring as fuck. I had been made to take two educational courses with one physical. In the end I chose Maths and Media Studies as my learning lasses and for the physical, mechanics.

Maths and Media Studies would be three days a week for the next year. Maths in the morning, Media Studies in the afternoon. The mechanics course would take up the other two days of the week and in total last two years. Being realistic, I probably wouldn't be able to get a job for at least a year, so I was stuck in this dump. I wouldn't be able to save anything from the measly allowance I was entitled to. In fact, I would be lucky to even be able to feed myself after paying for electricity and of course, cigarettes.

I closed my eyes, leaning back on the uncomfortable bed with my arms in a makeshift pillow under my head, yawning with exhaustion. I couldn't envision how I would ever get my life back on track in a place like this. Prison so far was definitely the better deal. At least there was structure and three meals a day. Out here, I would be lucky to buy a loaf of bread. If this was the real world...they could take it back.

*** I arrived home from school that day full of cheer. I couldn't quite believe my luck. It was valentines day and somehow, I had received four cards. Four! It was more than anyone in the whole school had gotten.

I shut the front door, singing a merry tune as I wandered in the kitchen to see my Mom sat at the table. My spirit dampened a little as I realised she still didn't look too well. She was usually full of life and happy. She had a nursing job which she loved, the patients would cheer up instantly when they saw her. Just a few weeks ago, she had taken a nasty tumble down the stairs and hadn't been herself since. She didn't break anything, but she wouldn't go and get herself checked out the hospital. She said that as she was a nurse, she knew what she was talking about and that she was fine, besides, she didn't want the embarrassment of explaining to her colleagues at the hospital that she had fallen down the stairs because she wasn't paying attention. I begged her to get checked out, worried in case she had given herself internal bleeding. She had just patted my head at the time, softly laughing saying that she would have died that very night and not to be so dramatic.

I set my bag down on the floor, pulling out a chair at the table sitting opposite my Mom, beaming with happiness.

"Hey Blainey days! How was school?"

I rolled my eyes affectionately at the silly nickname. She would never grow out of calling me that no matter how old I got. I was grown up now at thirteen years old, surely she would have to stop soon. I watched with worried eyes as she stood to make me a PB + J sandwich. She did it everyday and I loved that she was so caring. She clutched her side, gasping with pain as she reached over to get something from the fridge.

"Mom, sit down. I am old enough to make my own sandwich."

She clicked her tongue at me.

"We went through this yesterday, and the day before...and the day before that. I like making your sandwiches. It makes me feel useful. Now stop nagging at me and tell me about your day at school."

I sighed, but launched into the tale of the valentines cards, grinning as I remembered the feeling of being liked. She slid the sandwich over and put the kettle on to make us some tea.

"Sounds like you are popular with the school Blainey days. So...these cards...are they all from girls or...?

I looked up at her nervously. She gave me a reassuring smile, instantly putting my mind at ease. I think she had always sensed that I was different. She accepted it with love. I had never officially told her that I might be gay, I mean...thirteen was such a young age, how would I even know if I definitely was? I took a bite of my sandwich.

"Three girls and one boy actually."

She smiled at my answer, looking satisfied with herself for somehow knowing that there was more to the valentines day cards. We both jumped as the landline phone rang loud and clear. She grabbed the cordless phone from the kitchen counter, answering the phone as she held her freshly made hot tea in the other hand.

"Hello. Anderson household speaking?"

I tried not to laugh at her posh 'phone' voice. Me, my Dad and older brother Cooper always found it hysterical when she answered the phone. She liked to try and impress people.

I watched, still chewing on my sandwich as the colour slowly drained out of my Moms face. I put my sandwich down, not feeling hungry anymore and walked over to her looking anxiously into her eyes for any clue as to who was on the other end of the phone. She looked right through me, staring at the wall behind me as she listened to the caller. She whispered 'OK' into the phone befor hanging it up and setting it down on the counter, the tea spilling all over her as her hands shook.

"That was...that was er...one of my colleagues at the hospital. She very kindly informed me that your Dad was in a car accident this afternoon."

I felt sick and clammy. The sandwich I had just eaten was trying to make it's way back up from my stomach.

"What? Mom, is he OK? He's OK right?"

She put a hand on my arm, but she still couldn't look at me.

"He's ...he' dead Blainey days. Died on impact. He's gone."

I shook my head, taking a step back from her. This couldn't be happening.

I jumped as she dropped her cup filled with tea, the noise of the china breaking echoing all over the suddenly cold and empty house. Before I could stop her, she collapses into the broken shards and scolding tea, screaming in agony and grief, like something out of a nightmare.

I knew that I would remember that scream forever. ***

I jump as a loud knock on the door woke me. I must have fallen asleep. I sat up trying to get my bearings, not knowing where the hell I was. I rubbed my eyes, taking in my surroundings, suddenly remembering where I was. In hell.

I groan as the door bangs again. If it was that grumpy bitch from downstairs, she would be having the door slammed in her face. I wanted to be left alone, there were no rules saying that I couldn't at least have my privacy. I didn't have much else.

I lit up a smoke, sucking on it like I hadn't had one for years. It felt so good. I needed it after that awful dream. I cursed loudly as I tripped over my plastic bag of clothes that I had left on the floor.

I opened the door, raising an eyebrow as I realised that it wasn't the miserable woman from downstairs. Instead, in front of me stood a young man with perfectly quaffed light brown hair and sparkling blue eyes. He had a huge smile on his face, whether it was fake or genuine, I couldn't quite tell. He was wearing the most ugly suit I had ever seen. It was light brown with random patches of colour all over it and on the pocket sat a hideous hippopotamus broach. He also had an official looking badge on the other side of his jacket that said 'Authority personnel' which was pretty ridiculous considering it could have meant anything. He had a black briefcase in one hand , and his free hand was held out for me to shake.

I stared at him with confusion, the cigarette hanging lazily out of my mouth as he spoke.

"Hello! I'm Kurt Hummell."


	2. Losing Control - Two

I take the cigarette from my mouth, blowing the smoke away from his face. I would never usually bother, but Kurt Hummell somehow looked too pure and clean to have smoke blown all over him. I refused to shake the hand he held out for me, instead taking another drag on my cigarette, feeling relief as it filled my lungs with its poisonous fumes. I waited for him to speak again. I honestly didn't want to talk to him and besides, my throat ached all the time nowadays with the effort of speaking because it was alien to me. Or it could have had a lot to do with the toxins I was now putting in my body. The effort of speaking hurt me. It annoyed me. I didn't want chat or need chat in my life.

"May I come in?"

I stayed put, blocking the small doorway. His voice was soft and breezy, like he had never had any cares or worries in his life. Until he gave me a valid reason as to why he was here, I didn't want to know. It did nothing to deter him though. His smile just grew wider as he realized I wasn't going to budge. He shrugged his shoulders.

"Never mind, It's a gorgeous day. We can just sort out our bits out here."

His smile didn't falter as he set his briefcase down on the floor, bending with it as he rummaged for something inside. I couldn't help but notice his ass as he bent down. I had been locked away for years, I would be a fool to not appreciate something new right in front of me. He straightened back up, his cheeks turning slightly pink as he caught me checking him out. He cleared his throat and handed me a pile of books.

I threw them on to the other pile of books the old grumpy lady had given me earlier, making him jump as they thudded down.

"So... You're not going to look at them just now then? That's fine, we can go through them another time. Why don't I just explain to you who I am and what I do?" His smile was still plastered to his face as he spoke, his skin so soft and porcelain that it looked like it could be hurt just from smiling alone. "From here on in, I am your 'person'."

I stubbed my cigarette out on my own hand and chucked it to the ground, noticing his frown as I did so. What the fuck did he mean by 'person'? I blinked in confusion, rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand. I was too tired for this crap.

"Excuse me?"

My voice was croaky yet again. Maybe now I was outside I would have to work on my talking. I didn't want it to be this sore every time I had to say something. Kurts blue eyes bore into mine.

"I have been assigned to you to help you adjust to your new life on the outside. I will be here for whatever problems you face, big or small and to mostly keep you in line and make sure you attend all of the courses you signed up for."

I fold my arms across my chest, hoping that hostility was written all over my face.

"So you are here to babysit me?"

"Well, babysitter isn't exactly my official job title Mr Anderson. I'm just a friendly, helpful face here to assist and make sure there is no wrong doing."

I found it hard to take as his smile actually grew and he saluted at me. What the hell was his deal? The happiness radiating from him was just too much. I didn't need it. I didn't need him.

"So you are telling me that some bright spark offered you..." I looked him up and down incredulously. "...a job looking after hardened criminals who have been locked up? Woah. How many times have you been beaten so far? I can't imagine you would last long in our sort of company."

As I finished my speech, my voice became less croaky. Maybe I would get used to talking again.

"I have never been beaten actually Mr Anderson. Listen, we haven't got all day and I need to discuss some things with you and go over our weekly meetings..."

I shut the door in his face as he carried on speaking. I couldn't be bothered with it. Who the hell wanted to punish me so much that they would send an un-naturally happy puppy dog to look after me?

I collapsed back onto my bed, using my arms as a pillow and looked up to the ceiling. I ignored the banging on my door. I let out a huge yawn, debating if I should have a nap. There was nothing else to do now I was out of prison.

The banging on my door died down and I thought he had finally got the hint until I heard the jangling of some keys. A second later, he entered my room, still with the chirpy grin on his face. I leap off my bed in defence, ready to beat the shit out of him. How dare he just break in like that?

"I get it. You are one of those sad, moody 'I have been so wronged, nobody understands me' type of guys. I come across people like you every single day. It is my job to get you out of the slump. Your self pity won't wash with me."

I raise an eyebrow at him, amazed that he has the audacity to not only enter my room uninvited, but speak to me like that. I had to hand it to him, Kurt had some nerve.

"You are mistaken. I am one of those 'done the crime, done my time' and if you continue to bother me and break in I don't mind going down for another long stretch after I've sorted you out' type of guys."

It was crazy to me how he looked so delicate, so breakable but yet he wasn't scared one bit. I was one of the calmer criminals. I was easy going compared to most of the inmates I had encountered over the years. It was a wonder he hadn't been killed yet if this was the way he acted around people like us.

He picks up my plastic bag of belongings I had discarded on the floor earlier and starts folding them neatly, tucking them away in the awful bedside table. It was the only possible place they could go in the entire room.

"If beating me up is going to relieve some of that anger you have, then go for it. But seeing as you haven't made a move to hurt me just yet, I will take my chances. As you may have gathered, I have keys for everyone I handle and I will not hesitate to use them to gain entry when people are being obnoxious and rude. It is my job. Trust me Mr Anderson, I have dealt with people twice as big and a million more times scary than you. You are like a fluffy cat in comparison. "

My fists clenched as he spoke. He really had no idea how dangerous I could be.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

He sits on the rickety bed, a faint pull of amusement tugging at his mouth.

"You heard me. A mouse is more scary than you. Oh god I hate rodents. They are disgusting. If I say a mouse or rat in here, I am running so fast you won't see me for dust."

He shuddered.

I shook my head, running a hand through my curls.

"Are you for real or am I on some sort of drug? No...no. I must have been smoking something weird in that cigarette because there is no way that a man in a hideous suit just compared me to a cat. A fucking fluffy cat."

To my dismay, he laughs.

"It was a normal, disgusting, smelly cigarette and my suit is awesome thank you very much. Now then, we have things to go through and I have places to be so let's not waste time hey?"

I grudgingly hold my hands up in surrender and sit next to him on the bed. We may as well get this shit over with so he could leave me alone. He smelt really good. He smelt clean. It sounded ridiculous but I had actually forgotten what being clean felt like. Hard soap that didn't lather and turned my skin red raw was the only thing I had used in twelve years. Maybe the first thing I would do when I got money was treat myself to a good shampoo and a shower gel. That would be a luxury.

The strangers in my house were everywhere. I couldn't move for strangers. They were all here to mourn my Dad. The funeral had by far been the worst experience of my life. I just couldn't believe that my Dad was gone. That I would never see him again. And now I was surrounded by people who didn't care. How could they care, I didn't even know most of them, why did they have a right to be sad for my Dad?

I looked over at my big brother Cooper. He had taken the death worse than any of us cold have imagined. He had started to stay out all hours, worrying my Mom sick.

And my Mom, my poor Mom...she had become a shadow of her former self. I just ten days she was gaunt and worryingly thin. She could hardly stand for more than five minutes without collapsing in a nearby chair. I pleaded with her to go to the hospital she worked out, so one of her friends and colleagues could check her out. I knew there was more to this then the horrendous events of my Dad dying.

Just three days after the funeral I returned to school. It was so hard but I had to do it. I had to get through all the whispering and all the pitying looks for my Dad. He would have wanted me to get through my education. As I fumbled for my keys in my backpack on my front porch after my first day back, I knew something awful had happened. I could feel it in the air.

As I walked in the kitchen, my heart dropped as I saw my Mom laying flat out on the floor. Shattered china surrounded her and a jar of unopened peanut butter sat on the worktop, no doubt because my Mom had been making me my after school sandwich. She still continued to do that even after Dads death, it was her way of keeping everything normal. Even as she lay there, one of her arms had been clutching her side, as if she were in pain.

I dialed 911 with shaking hands, unable to believe that this was happening. They told me to check for a pulse or to see if she was still breathing but I couldn't. I could barely get our address out. I just stood there with the phone clutched to my ear, not speaking until the ambulance pulled up outside. She was still alive but unconscious as I traveled in the ambulance with her, holding er hand every minute before I was pulled away and sat in some cold, grey waiting room while doctors worked on my Mom.

I tried to phone Cooper but I couldn't reach him. I even phoned all of his friends but nobody could tell me his whereabouts.

Valerie, a kind nurse in her fifties with a round belly and graying hair, walked into the waiting room smiling at me kindly, sadness etched in her eyes. My mom and her were good friends. I had always liked her, she would sometimes bake cakes and drop them off at our house. I had never tasted cakes as good as hers.

She took a seat opposite me, her eyes brimming with tears. When she didn't speak, I assumed the worst.

"Oh...Oh my god Val, my Mom, is she...is she...?"

Val sniffed and took a deep breath.

"She's ...she's alive sweetie. Listen love, you are thirteen. Just thirteen. And you have already dealt with so much in the last few weeks." She shook her head, trying to stop the tears that were flowing freely down her cheeks. "I just need you to be brave for me OK sweetie? What I'm about to say isn't easy. I'm so sorry."

I couldn't speak. My own tears were burning my eyes, but I wouldn't let them fall. I waited for Val to go on, not trusting myself to say a word.

"We have all noticed your Mom hasn't been herself for quite a while now. I mean, most of us are trained doctors and nurses, we urged her to be seen. We knew the signs. We were fearful. Your poor Mom going through what she did with your Dad...it was such a massive shock. It made her worse. It weakened her. After running some tests tonight, we confirmed what we already knew. Your Mom has cancer sweetie. She has had it for a while from what we can tell and it has spread. There is nothing we can do for her now."

I shake my head, opening my mouth to speak.

"No...no. She can't...she can't have cancer. She was fine, she was fit and..."

Val scoots off her chair and kneels in front of me, taking my hands in hers.

"Come on sweetheart, you know that's not true. You know she wasn't as well as she used to be. She has been deteriorating for some time now. Even without the shock of your Dad dying, she would have been seriously ill. The shock made her body weaker for sure, but there was only so much time left for her, her body would have given out eventually."

I'm still shaking my head, faster now. I was determined not to cry.

"No. No no no. You have to help her Val. It's cancer. It's awful but it's treatable right? You said there is nothing you can do but people get cancer. There is treatment, they can...they can do something."

Val wipes the tears from her rounded cheeks, sniffing loudly.

"Blaine sweetheart, she left it too late. All we can do now is make her comfortable. I am so sorry. It's a matter of just days. She might not even make it through the night."

I stand up, my jaw set in determination.

"I have to see her. I have to see her right now. I know she can get over this. She can't just die on me. I can't go through losing another parent. Take me to her please."

She leads me , pity in her eyes, to my Moms room. I gasp at the shock of seeing her covered in wires and tubes with loud beeping machines going off every minute.

Despite my protests that she wouldn't die, that she couldn't die, my Mom took her last breath just 78 hours later. Despite my frantic attempts to contact Cooper who never came to say goodbye, I didn't leave my Moms side.

My Mom actually opened her eyes and said her last words to me six hours and thirty two minutes before she died. I counted every minute in that hospital room. Time was precious.

Her breathing was laboured and difficult as she tried to speak. It was agony for me to watch her in so much pain.

"I'm so...I'm so..."

She gasped for air, struggling to breathe.

"I'm so sorry...I...I have to leave you like this."

I grabbed her hand, tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn't care if my Mom saw me cry. It was the first time I had heard her speak since I found her.

"Mom, it's OK. Please rest. We can talk soon."

Her eyes widened with terror, she used every ounce of effort to gently shake her head.

"Blainey days...we...we don't have time. We don't have soon. I...I love you so...so..."

I squeezed her hand, nodding

"I know Mom. I love you. I love you so much."

She gulped in a huge lungful of air, every second a struggle for her.

"Your...your brother is not, he's not...strong...he's not...you. Promise me you will look after him."

She coughed, dry heaving coughs that consumed her whole body. I stood up, unsure if I should press the emergency button. She squeezed my hand back.

"Promise me."

One of my tears fell onto her hand that I held in my own. I choked back a huge sob.

"I promise Mom."

All at once her face looked peaceful as she slipped back into her deep sleep. I knew it would be the last time I ever spoke to her or heard her voice and I was right.

In the space of a month and at the tender age of just thirteen, I had lost both my parents.

I shook my head , trying to banish the dark thoughts away. I tried to focus on the boring stuff Kurt was saying about my meetings and courses. He made me sign a load of papers and informed me that every Tuesday at seven PM he would be around to visit me for our weekly sessions.

I honestly couldn't figure him out. He didn't fit into this world of criminals. All I could conclude was that he must get paid a shit load of money to do a job like this.

He started packing all his papers and books away in his briefcase, grinning up at me in amusement.

"Well, you are a talker. I didn't think you would shut up for a minute there."

He chuckled at his own joke. I came to the realization that if I wasn't a criminal monster and I had met him under normal circumstances, I would probably quite fancy this Kurt Hummel.

He heads for the door when he realizes I'm not going to answer him, that grin still on his face.

"So Mr Anderson, I will be seeing you on Tuesday. Unless we bump into each other before then of course."

I take a cigarette from my pocket, lighting it up and taking a drag. I didn't care for small talk.

"They are bad for your health you know."

I shrugged my shoulders. I didn't care.

"So was having my head smashed against the wall in prison on a regular basis, but I survived."

A brief look of horror crosses his face before he composes himself.

To my astonishment, he pulls the cigarette from my mouth and throws down into the parking lot below.

Before I have a chance to hurt him for doing that with one of my precious smokes, he waves a cheery goodbye and runs down the steps, humming to himself.

I close the door and light up another cigarette, flopping down on to my bed.

I hadn't much wanted to punch Kurt anyway. My life was joyless enough, it wouldn't help hurting people like him. Kurt was everything I wasn't. Kurt was one of the good guys.


	3. Losing Control - Three

By the time Monday morning came round, I was grateful. I had spent the whole weekend in this shitty little motel room. I was going out of my mind with boredom. In prison, at least there had been a routine to the days. You got up, you had breakfast, showered, did the work assigned to you, had lunch, more work, dinner, free time which usually meant trying to avoid another beating, then finally lights out and sleep. My days had structure to them. Now I had nothing. I was pleased at having to force myself off the scratchy bed and into the mouldy, grimy shower to get ready for a day of courses.

I scrubbed myself raw with the tiny bathroom soap, then lathered up my hair with shampoo, moaning in ecstasy as I felt the dirt wash away. I had only ventured out once during the weekend, to buy cigarettes and shampoo. Even the cheapest bottle was expensive to me, so I knew I would have to make this last.

I had been living off a loaf of bread and a packet of biscuits for the last three days. I couldn't afford anything else. My stomach growled and I knew I had to eat something before I set off for the day, But I knew I couldn't face anymore of the stale bread. I grabbed the last three biscuits from the packet, shoving them down my throat in record speed.

Then I picked out my best pair of jeans and a white shirt. The jeans still had stains over them from the prison work that no amount of washing would ever get out and a hole on the back of the right leg, my T-shirt was frayed at the bottom, but they were still my best clothes. I ran a hand through my damp curls, thinking to myself that I really needed to get a mirror at some point. If I had to be out and about everyday, I needed to not look like a homeless man.

I grabbed the books I would need for the day, and put them in the plastic bag I had used to carry my belongings from prison here. I didn't have anything else to put them in. Hell, I didn't even have a cup to drink from, I just stuck my mouth under the tap when I was thirsty , so a bag was the least of my worries.

I walked out into the early morning sun, shutting the door behind me but not locking it. It didn't matter if anyone broke in, I had nothing to take anyway. They were welcome to the shitty things I called my own.

I surprised myself at just how well I remembered these streets. I knew exactly where I had to go, and walked along almost on autopilot.

As I crossed the road opposite the building I would be spending the next year in learning about pointless stuff, I nearly got hit by a cycle bike. A fucking cycle bike. I cursed at the rider loudly, trying to keep the memories of years ago at bay. It didn't work. The more I tried not to think of things, the more they came back to haunt me.

 _ **I grabbed my cycle bike from the garage and raced to the address that had just been shouted down the phone to me.**_

 _ **Cooper was in trouble, again.**_

 _ **How did my life end up so shit? Where had it all gone wrong? Well, the obvious answer was my parents dying of course.**_

 _ **Sometimes, I couldn't help but hate them for this. For leaving us like this.**_

 _ **It had been nearly two years since they both died. I was fifteen now and a complete loser. I could be honest about it, I really was. I had no friends, no point to my life, no nothing.**_

 _ **Just after my Mom's funeral, some fancy pants lawyer with a shiny bald head had come round to inform Cooper and I of some great news.**_

 _ **He actually said something along the lines of... 'Boys, the bad news is you lost your parents, the good news is, you get to keep the house.'**_

 _ **He actually said it like it was a prize. Like we would rather keep the house than have our parents breathing. He was a complete douche.**_

 _ **It turned out that my Mom and Dad had left the house to Cooper, for now. He had been over eighteen when they died, and was therefore somehow entitled to it. The Will stipulated that I was to be joint owner when I turned eighteen, and that we could do what we wished with it**_.

 _ **Also, on the fucking bright side, I would never see my parents again, but they had left us some money to get by. It mostly went into Coopers account, but apparently it was enough to get us both by until I was eighteen and could finish my schooling and find a job.**_

 _ **The Will had only been updated a month or two before Mom's death, which had made me even more certain that she had known she was dying. She was a nurse, she must have realised something was seriously wrong with her.**_

 _ **The authorities had let me and Cooper be, Cooper was pretty much now my official guardian, which was a joke. I spent more time looking after him, keeping his nose clean and running the house than he spent watching out for me, his brother who was a minor.**_

 _ **The situation with Cooper had gotten so bad that I had actually had to drop out of school. I knew my parents would have been disappointed in that, I had continued to be an A star student even after the deaths, but I had no choice.**_

 _ **It took all my time worrying about my big brother that I didn't have time for anything else. Every time I felt I wasn't doing enough to watch out for him, my Mom's dying words would always come back to haunt me. I had promised her, on her deathbed, that I would look after him.**_

 _ **And I was doing a fucked up job of it so far. He had got involved with the wrong crowd and every night there was some sort of drama. Cooper had drunk too much, Cooper was off his head on drugs, Cooper had shoplifted. There was always something.**_

 _ **One of Coopers old school friends had just phoned me to say he knew that Cooper was planning to burgle a house tonight. The rumour had been going round for a few days now and he thought I should know. All his old friends had watched sadly as Cooper merged into this horrible down and out. I needed to get there and sort it out. It was a step too far now.**_

 _ **I decided that as soon as I had persuaded him to not do it, and come home with me, that I would phone someone, anyone... for help. Cooper was out of control and I could no longer deal with him.**_

 _ **My lungs and legs were aching by the time I reached the address.**_

 _ **I threw my bike down and ran to the back of the house. It was dark, and hopefully empty so nobody would hear the commotion.**_

 _ **I saw Cooper and two of his 'friends', or rather, thuggish companions, all dressed in black. I tried not to feel the stab of pain as I realised I hadn't just lost my parents two years ago. I had lost Cooper as well. I looked at him now, and I didn't even know him. It was like he was a monster.**_

 _ **I walked up, trying to keep my breathing steady. All three turned to face me.**_

 _ **"Cooper, don't do this."**_

 _ **His two friends laughed loudly while he stared at me , he looked baffled by my presence.**_

 _ **"Get out of here little brother." He didn't say it in a friendly way. His voice sounded cold, devoid of any emotion. "This is nothing to do with you."**_

 _ **His friends had started to close in on me, Cooper just stood there, pretending not to notice.**_

 _ **"I'm not going anywhere until you come home and we can sort this out. Think of them Cooper. Don't make them frown upon us."**_

 _ **He roared with laughter at this. He actually clutched his belly as he laughed. One of his friends sneered at me. The other spat, I tried not to look as it landed next to my shoe.**_

 _ **"Them? You mean our parents? Some parents they turned out to be."**_

 _ **I clenched my fists in anger.**_

" _ **Don't say that. Don't you fucking dare say that Cooper."**_

" _ **Aww, little Blainey days is still a Momma's boy even after two years of her being six foot under. Face it shitbag, they were useless. Get out of here."**_

 _ **My eyes were burning with tears that I would never show these morons. I stood my ground, staring at him.**_

 _ **One of his huge companions spoke up.**_

" _ **Come on Cooper, ignore this little turd and get on with it. The owners could be back soon."**_

 _ **I frown at this, my mouth falling open in shock.**_

 _ **"Wait. You can't seriously tell me you are going in there by yourself?"**_

 _ **The other friend growls menacingly at me. He might as well have been a zoo animal.**_

" _ **Well we aren't going in there with him. He's the smallest, makes sense for him to do it. He owes us."**_

 _ **I see a flash of something in Coopers eyes. Fear? Guilt? I didn't know. I try to rise up to my full height and look the giant thug in**_ _ **the eye.**_

" _ **There is no fucking way he's doing this. Get out of here before I call the cops."**_

 _ **I couldn't react even though I knew it was coming. It was like watching something in slow motion when you are powerless to stop it. I doubled over in agony as my stomach felt the full force of one of the guys fists. It felt like one of my ribs had just been cracked. I groaned in pain as one of them held me back, and the other took a swing at my face this time.**_

 _ **Great, a cracked rib and a broken nose. What the fuck did I do to deserve this? I tried to break free, but the guy holding me back was twice the size of me. I looked to Cooper for some help, crying out when I saw him running to a window of the house.**_

 _ **"Cooper, get back here."**_

 _ **I couldn't say anything after that as this time a fist connected with my jaw.**_

 _ **I could taste blood in my mouth. I watched in silence as Cooper disappeared into the house. Right now, I would have been better off with my parents. Rotting underground somewhere.**_

 _ **I didn't know how much time went by. Every time I tried to move, one of the brutes kicked or punched me.**_

 _ **It was only when we heard distant sirens they let me go and started running off into the distance. I ran for the house, desperate to get Cooper out before he was caught.**_

 _ **I climbed through the same window he had, and had only got as far as the kitchen when I saw him, standing over a body. My hand flew to my mouth in horror. I felt bile in my mouth.**_

 _ **As I walked closer, I saw a heavy photo frame in Coopers hands, and an elderly man knocked out cold.**_

 _ **My heart broke at the guy on the floor. He looked so scared, even unconscious. His face just looked like terrified. I looked at the picture in the photo frame Cooper was holding. It was a picture of the old man and a couple of young children, all smiling happily. His Grandkids no doubt.**_

" _ **What the fuck have you done?"**_

 _ **Cooper jumped as he stared at me, his mouth open in shock.**_

" _ **I... I didn't mean to."**_

 _ **At that moment, I cut him from my heart. He was no longer a brother. He was a monster who hurt innocent people. He couldn't be saved.**_

 _ **Cooper jumps again as he hears the sirens, they were a lot closer now. Police sirens. He looks at me, his eyes wide with fear.**_

 _ **"We have to get out of here."**_

 _ **I scoff, wincing as the movement hurt my battered body.**_

 _ **"Are you insane? We need to get him some help. Call an ambulance. Now."**_

 _ **He dropped the photo frame and ran towards the open window. He wouldn't leave surely? I knew the answer before he had even climbed out of the window. He was a stranger.**_

 _ **I watched sadly as he grabbed my bike, and with one last guilt ridden glance at the house, cycled off as fast as he could.**_

 _ **I ran back to the old man, my hands shaking as I grabbed the phone on the counter top, dialling for an ambulance.**_

 _ **Before I could even speak into the phone, I was being handcuffed and led away by two burly policemen.**_

I tried to shake the bad memory away. That was the last thing I wanted to think of right now. All I wanted to do was to get these shitty courses over and done with so I could get on with my pitiful life.

I pushed open the door to the building hard, making it slam against the wall as I walked in. The receptionist cast me a scathing look as I walked to the desk.

"Blaine Anderson. Here for Math and Media Studies." My voice still sounded croaky when I spoke. It would take some getting used to.

She gave me a map, and pointed to a corridor, telling me to follow it all the way down.

I seemed to be early, the place was really quiet, that was how desperate I was to be in some sort of routine again.

I got through Math without falling asleep. I had done enough of that over the last few days. It was the only way to escape the thoughts in my head.

At lunch, I went out of the building to have a much needed cigarette. I didn't have anything to eat, I had decided to just get something for dinner later instead. I needed every spare penny, I was very nearly out of smokes.

I stood on the sidewalk outside the building for a full hour, just watching people go by. It was a luxury to me. I had seen the same people day in , day out for years, and now I had a chance to look at other people. It was a weird feeling.

At one o clock, I made my way back into the building to find the Media Studies class.

I happened to be the first one in this class room. I sat at the back, leaned back on a chair and closed my eyes. If I could do twelve years in jail, I could get through a year of boring classes. At least I hoped so. So far, being outside seemed harder than being locked up.

"Ah. Mr Anderson. How nice to see you again."

My eyes opened wide as I recognised the voice. I watched as Kurt Hummel walked into the classroom , and sat on the 'teachers' desk. Today he was wearing a bright red T-shirt with grey skinny jeans. His hair was as perfectly styled as the other day, and he was beaming at me as he swung his legs back and forth on the table.

I frowned at him as I sat up straighter and ran a hand through my hair. He seemed to make me feel grubby. He was too clean. Too pure.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

His smile didn't falter.

"I'm teaching the class of course. I told you we may bump into each other now and again. What else would I be doing here?"

I sighed and sunk back in my chair.

"You have got to be shitting me."

Kurt Hummel jumped off the desk, and walked to the white board. He never broke eye contact with me.

"Less of the language Anderson. And don't come to my class again stinking of smoke. I told you the other day, It's bad for you."

I shrugged, raising an eyebrow.

"What do you care?"

His answer was a knowing smile. I couldn't understand what the smile meant. It infuriated me. I was just about to ask what he was smirking at when the class started filling up. I realised I better keep my mouth shut or risk getting kicked out of the crap courses and the dive of a motel. And really, I needed both to get my life back on track.

Still, at least with Hummel in those tight grey jeans, I had something nice to look at for the next few hours.


	4. Losing Control - Four

I slouched back in my chair as Kurt Hummel introduced himself to everyone. Everyone in here was a hardened criminal, and I couldn't help thinking yet again that we would all make mincemeat of him. He was too gentle for the likes of us, too pure and happy. I just couldn't figure out why he would want to spend his days with people like us. What drove him to do it?

He looked around the class and told us all to introduce ourselves. No way in hell was I doing that. I wasn't the only one who refused. Out of a class of twelve, only three people introduced themselves. Kurt sighed and started scribbling on the white board.

"Obviously this isn't like a normal sort of school class. You are all at different levels of capability and education, so I'm just going to start you all on the same thing and see who needs an extra bit of help. I thought today, we could look at your cases. Why you were in jail. I need you to speak up if your case was in the media."

Kurt looked around the room and nobody answered him. Was he insane? As if he wasn't already in danger from a room full of criminals , he wanted us to talk about our cases? I rolled my eyes and sat further back in my chair. Some people just asked for what they had coming.

The room stayed silent. I narrowed my eyes as Kurt pointed at me.

"Mr Anderson. I believe yours was a case that was widely in the media. Would you like to discuss it with the class?"

I shook my head in disbelief and started tapping the desk with my pen. My jaw clenched as I stared at Hummel, his gaze never faltered as he looked at me. He didn't look even a little bit afraid.

"Do you have a fucking death wish?"

Rather than look put out, Kurt just looked amused. The class all turned to stare at me, some agreeing with my words, others just looking blankly, like all the life had been sucked out of them. I knew the feeling.

Kurt started walking over to my desk. My eyes quickly glanced to how tight his pants were as he walked over, why would he wear something like that? I swallowed and looked back up at him, I wanted to intimidate him. He was really jarring on my nerves right now.

"You answered my question with another question Mr Anderson. I will ask again, would you like to share your case with the class?"

I set my chair back on the floor properly, I was fed up of leaning back now. I took my eyes away from Hummel's face and stared at the front of the class with a scowl on my face.

"Like hell I do. I'm one step away from walking out of this shit hole, so don't tempt me."

Hummel gave a short sharp laugh and walked back to the front of the class, his ass swaying as he moved. I knew I wasn't the only one looking.

He sat back on the front desk like he had when he first came in the classroom, and started swinging his legs again.

"If you want to leave, go for it. Nobody is forcing you to do this class. That goes for all of you. If you don't want to be here, then get out now and don't waste my time. I have a class to teach and if you feel offended at me asking about your case, then maybe you're not as tough as you think you are. Years in prison clearly haven't made you a man yet."

He glanced at me as he spoke, my mouth fell open in shock. Was he for real? He still looked slightly amused as he continued speaking.

"I was reading through your case the other night Mr Anderson. It was widely reported in the media. It made for interesting reading. A young, sweet looking boy with curls and a sweet temperament who had been hit by tragedy after tragedy, appearing in court for a hideous crime. People couldn't quite believe that you were capable of such a thing."

I shrugged, and gazed at him coolly.

"It doesn't really matter a fuck what people believed about me. I did it."

 **"I did it. I'm guilty."**

 **A sheen of sweat covered my whole body as I stared into the intimidating face of the judge who was about to sentence me. I had a full court room of people looking at me. They didn't think I would admit it so easily I suppose.**

 **I had been held in a youth prison for the last seven weeks and four days since I was dragged away by the cops at the old mans house. Billy. The old mans name was Billy, and he had lost his wife to cancer just ten months ago. He had three daughters who had all loved him very much and five grandchildren all under ten.**

 **He died in hospital two days after my arrest, turning the case from assault and burglary to murder. Murder. I shuddered as the word rattled round my brain. Cooper had murdered an innocent old man who had never done him any harm. Somebody had to pay for it.**

 **I felt like I had dealt the blow. Like it was my fault the kind man with a family who loved him was now dead. I had promised my dying Mom on her deathbed that I would look after Cooper. And I had failed miserably. I deserved this. I deserved whatever punishment they gave me. Billy deserved justice.**

 **I had turned sixteen just a mere three days ago, and I knew that whatever happened today, I would be going to an adult prison. They had warned me about how different it would be to the youth prison. I had a female officer assigned to me when I was held in the youth one, and she had seemed to take a liking to me. She told me horror stories about what going to the actual prison would be like. She would sit down and look me in the eyes, trying to persuade me to plead Not Guilty. I kept telling her over and over that I had done the crime and deserved the time. It became my motto really, back before the trial. One of Coopers old friends had written to me, explaining that Cooper was no where to be found. He had put the house up for sale as it was legally his, cleared the bank accounts, and done a runner. The police never looked into this. They didn't see it as dodgy behaviour on his part, because I had admitted to the crime. I had made their job easy. They already had the bad guy.**

 **I had got wind of the media speculation due to the kindly female officer in the youth prison. She brought in papers that had my face splattered in them. Pictures of me hugging my Mom a few years back. Baby faced, Mommy's boy killer. People couldn't believe it.**

 **I snapped back to reality and stared at the judge. He was looking at me sternly.**

 **"There were a lot of factors in this case that have led to my sentencing. The fact that you are showing remorse and that you are still so young. Your own personal tragedies that have no doubt turned you into this criminal standing in front of me today. The fact that you owned up straight away and admitted your guilt. Therefore, I sentence you to twelve years in jail. No parole."**

 **My hands started trembling and my legs nearly gave out on me. This was real. I was a convict now. I tried to swallow again but my mouth felt dry. Billy's three daughters who had been sitting in the court sobbed and clung onto each other. Two big burly policemen, maybe the same ones from the night I was arrested, came up behind and cuffed me. They tried to drag me away, but I refused for just a moment.**

 **"Wait."**

 **I shouted, everyone in the court stopped what they were doing and just looked at me. I looked at Billy's three daughters, and my eyes couldn't help but fill with tears.**

 **"Twelve years isn't long enough. I'm sorry. I'm sorry you didn't get your justice. Twelve years is a joke."**

 **My voice cracked as the prison guards dragged me away. Just before I was taken away, I saw the three daughters looking completely shocked by my actions. What did a sorry mean to them when their Dad was dead? Nothing. It meant shit all.**

 **I got thrown into a cell which was to become my home for the next twelve years. It was a single cell. I wasn't allowed a shared cell because I was deemed dangerous to other people. It suited me just fine.**

 **I collapsed onto the thin, uncomfortable metal bed and gazed around the cell. Then, making sure nobody else would hear me, I hung my head in my hands and sobbed. I cried all night. But I didn't cry for me. I cried for my Mom and Dad. I cried for Cooper. I cried for Billy. I cried for his daughters. I deserved this.**

 **I was guilty.**

Kurt Hummel raised an eyebrow, he still had a slight smirk on his face. Why did he find the whole thing so amusing? What the hell was wrong with him?

"So you keep saying Mr Anderson. You said it again and again during the trial. It was one of the only things that you ever said. Never seen a case quite like yours before."

I glared at him, and started tapping the table with my pen again. If he wanted a reaction out of me, he wasn't going to get one. He held my gaze for a few seconds, before looking at somebody else in the room and started talking about their case. I zoned out during this. I didn't want to know about court cases and criminals. I didn't want to be here but I had no choice.

He made us jot down some mind numbing statistics about court cases , and before I knew it , class was over. Everyone piled out of the class. I made my way from the back of the class and started heading towards the door. I growled as Hummel spoke.

"Mr Anderson? A word please."

I turned to look at him and clutched my plastic bag in my hand.

"What?"

My voice was cold as I scowled at him. He had given me enough shit already today.

"I just wanted to tell you that, not only did I research your case, I researched you."

My eyes widened slightly before I regained my angry stare.

"Well done. Must have been thrilling for you."

I started walking off, before his voice made me jump.

"I'm not finished. Get back here."

He pretty much yelled. I cursed under my breath. Did I really have to put up with this? I turned to face him again, my jaw clenched with fury.

"You were an A star student. You had everything going for you. Your teachers didn't have one bad word to say about you and they were just as shocked as the world seemed to be when your case came to light. You dropped out of school for no reason. Or seemingly no reason."

I shrugged and shook my head.

"And?"

Hummel laughed and stood up, walking over to me so there was hardly any room between us. I could smell how clean he was. He smelt of cologne or shower gel or something. It made me feel a bit nervous about how I smelt to him. Probably of jail and smoke. Nice.

"And I know that you will do well in this class. There is no other option. If you don't change your attitude, you will be out. So tomorrow, you get your head down, you respect me, and you work your moody little ass off. Are we clear?"

I was right earlier. This guy really did have a death wish. He wouldn't get away with speaking to me like that.

"Are you crazy? You must be looking for a beating. Seriously. I just..."

I shook my head and looked into his blue eyes. I realised with a sharp jolt that no matter how much he fucked me off, I wouldn't be able to hurt him. And that thought worried me.

"You need to be careful around people like us Hummel. We are criminals. I can't keep warning you how to act around us. One day, you will figure it out for yourself that it is not OK to order murderers around."

To my complete astonishment, he laughed. Like, he really laughed. He clutched his belly, then looked at me, a huge grin on his face.

"I have been ordering murderers around for years. It's my job. And the only one who has ever had any concern about my welfare is you. Remarkable."

I shook my head again, too quickly and growled.

"I am not concerned for your welfare Hummel. I am warning you."

Kurt shrugged his shoulders.

"Your warnings sound very much like concern. It's quite sweet actually."

I opened my mouth to say something, but couldn't get any words out. Did he just call me sweet? He was playing games , he had to be.

Before I could get my mind out of a jumble to actually speak, his hand reached round and grabbed me. I couldn't help but gasp as his hand squeezed my ass cheek. Was he hitting on me? Is that what this was all about?

He pulled me forward by my back jean pocket, and for just a second, our bodies were touching. Then all of a sudden, he pushed me away. I raised an eyebrow in question, staring at him in bewilderment.

He smiled at me, but this time... it was a kind smile. No trace of a smirk or amusement. He held his hands out, and I gasped again when I saw he had my cigarettes in his hand. I reached out to take them but he stepped back, took my last two out of the box and ripped them in half , chucking them on the floor.

"What the fuck did you do that for?"

Kurt looked down at the smokes in distaste, then back at me.

"For your health of course Mr Anderson."

I ran a hand through my hair. My whole body felt tight and wound up as he stood there , still smiling at me like nothing had happened.

"Fuck. You owe me. They were my last ones."

Kurt shook his head and held out his hand again. I glanced in confusion at the money that lay there. My money. I checked my pocket. It was gone. He had taken my smokes and my money. That money would have gotten me more cigarettes. I would have went hungry for the rest of the week, but it didn't matter.

"No. You owe me."

I watched as he breezily walked out of the room. What the hell did that mean? How did I owe him? I didn't go after him. I couldn't. I knew that if I did, I might end up hurting him, and I really, really didn't want to do that. Why didn't I want to that? What made him so special that he was immune to my anger? Well, he wasn't quite immune. Right now, I was furious.

I stormed out of the classroom and made my way home. Now what? I had no money, no smokes, no food... no anything. Fuck this. I wouldn't be going back there tomorrow. It wasn't worth it. I would grab the rest of my clothes and the one bottle of shampoo I owned and make my way out on the streets. I actually laughed to myself. What help would fucking shampoo be to a homeless guy?

I slammed open my flimsy motel room door furiously and started heading for the bed. I needed a sit down before I gathered my shit up and walked out of this place for good. I stopped as I looked at my bed, scratching my head in confusion. There was a brand new red and black duvet with two matching plump pillows. What the? I walked over and pulled the cover back, gaping at the clean white sheet underneath. I sat down, trying to figure out what was going on, and gasped out loud at the softness. I threw the sheet back and realised there was a brand new luxury mattress. There weren't any sharp springs sticking out and jabbing me in the ass. I shook my head in bewilderment, and looked around the room. My heart leapt as I gazed at the tiny kitchenette. I walked over , looking at the brand new cups, glasses , plates , bowels and cutlery on the side. I opened up my cupboard, my stomach growling as I looked at all the food that had been put there. It was full to the brim with cereals, tins, crisps, chocolates, everything you could imagine. I even had saucepans and frying pans. Dish sponges... everything.

I checked the fridge, amazed at the fresh milk, yoghurt , cheese, juice and meats that now sat there. I walked over to the small bathroom, still open mouthed as I looked at the bath creams, shower gels, toothpastes and flannels that adorned the shelves. There was a fancy , state of the art razor also sitting on the shelf.

I went back over to sit on my bed. I couldn't make sense of any of this. My eye caught a piece of paper on my bedside table.

I reached out and opened the folded paper impatiently.

 _Mr Anderson,  
I popped by this morning when you were in Math to make sure you had went to classes. Your room was pitiful Nobody can live on stale bread forever. I have stocked up for you in exchange for only one thing. You quit smoking. If I catch you with a cigarette again, I will be taking everything back.  
I hope the clothes fit.  
Kurt Hummel.  
P.S I know you didn't do it._

I re-read the note five times . Kurt did all this? Well, it couldn't have been anyone else, he was the only one that had a key.

I frowned as I looked under my bedside table and saw a neat stack of clothes. My old ones were still there, right at the bottom. There were four pairs of new jeans , seven t-shirts in different colours, 2 brown and beige sweaters and one brand new black fleeced coat. As well as a few packets of boxer shorts and socks. I scratched my head again. Was this really happening? When he had taken away my money in the classroom and said I owed him, is this what he meant?

For the millionth time that day, I gasped as I opened up a cardboard box that was next to the clothes. It contained a flashy pair of brand new sneakers and some smart brown shoes. I shook my head again. I couldn't accept all this. It wasn't mine. I glanced back at the stocked kitchen, my stomach growling and I very nearly caved. I nearly went to make myself food. But I shook my head more determined than ever and headed for the door.

I opened it to find Kurt standing there, smiling at me. I clenched my jaw again, noticing it was becoming a habit around him. He made me feel out of control and I didn't like it.

"Oh hey! That was great timing. I trust you found all your new belongings."

I raised my eyebrow and folded my arms across my chest. I felt fidgety and didn't really know what to do with my hands.

"I'm not a fucking charity case."

Kurt's smile didn't waiver as he nodded his head.

"I know. And I am more than happy to take all this stuff back but..."

He shrugged with that easy way he seemed to have , making me growl.

"But what?"

The smirk came back to his face.

"But your smokes are all gone now and you have no money for four more days so ... it would be kind of stupid giving me back all this stuff in exchange for nothing. And you would have to help me carry it all back and I'm off out in an hour and really don't have the time so... I just wanted to check you were OK with it all. And if the clothes don't fit, I can exchange them."

I had checked all the labels when I was going through them. He had brought the right size. I didn't say anything. I couldn't bring myself to say thanks. I wanted a cigarette, but like he said... I couldn't. When he realised I wasn't going to answer, he smiled wider.

"Great. That settles that then. Make yourself a good meal and I will see you in class tomorrow. No more smoking Anderson. I mean it."

I watched as he ran down the steps cheerily. When he reached the bottom, I stepped out of the door.

"Hummel."

He turned round, his face full of shock that I had called him. He looked up at me , waiting for me to say something.

"Your note. Your note said you know I didn't do it."

Kurt nodded, but didn't say anything else. I sighed. He obviously had a thing about being tricky with people. It was irritating.

"What do you mean by that? What didn't I do?"

He raised an eyebrow in surprise, then gave me a dazzling smile. His teeth were white and even.

"Oh come on. You are a clever man Mr Anderson. Don't play naïve."

And with that, he walked off , leaving me to wonder how the hell he could possibly know that I didn't kill Billy.


	5. Losing Control - Five

I cooked myself a steak from the fridge. I thought I should use the fridge things first in case they went out of date. After I ate my food and poured some juice, I sat on the bed, thinking about what had just the hell was Hummel bothered if I smoked or not? After all, it was my own health I was ruining, not anyone else's. And how could he possibly know that I didn't kill Billy?

And all this stuff I now owned, it must have cost him a fortune. Certainly way more than the money he had taken from my pocket earlier.I didn't sleep well at all that night. I had visions of Hummel floating around in my head. I became restless as I thought of how tight his jeans had been. The last thing I wanted to do was fill my head with somebody as annoying as that. I would have to give all the things back, I couldn't accept them. Although for the first time in twelve years, I actually owned new clothes and had enough food to get by. I had real shower gel and a razor. I groaned, put the pillow over my face and fell into a jumpy sleep.

When I woke in the morning, I showered and lathered myself in the minty shower gel sitting on the shelf. It felt amazing. What was even more amazing, was stepping into a huge fluffy white bath towel after the shower. The towels in prison had all been scratchy, and yesterday I had dried myself with a dry flannel. Hummel had really thought of everything. But why? Did he do this for every criminal he was allocated to?

I ate some cereal, wincing as the taste reminded me of when I was a teenager and when everything was perfect. Those days would never come back, and it was weird to be reminded of them. The milk seemed fresher than prison milk, the sun was shining and everything, just for a moment, felt like it was going to be OK .I brushed my teeth and had a shave, gazing in wonder at my smooth face after I was finished. I would always manage to cut myself with the prison razors, but now, there wasn't a mark on me.I put on a new pair of boxer shorts and jeans, before picking out a new black t-shirt. The other t-shirts Hummel had picked all seemed to be way too colourful for me. I put on some new socks , wriggling my feet at the softness, then put the brand new sneakers on.

I walked to the college in record time and got my head down for the Math class. I kept thinking of Media Studies and how weird it would be. If Hummel expected thanks then he could shove everything back up his ass. At lunch , I walked out of the building, and watched everyone go by again , just like I did yesterday. Only this time, I didn't have a smoke. I swallowed , trying not to think of how much I needed one right now. I couldn't have one, so if I didn't think of it, then maybe, just maybe ... It would be easier for me.

I headed straight for the seat I was in yesterday and sat down. I grabbed my notebook and pen, ready to jot down whatever mind numbing facts that would be thrown at us today and waited as the class filled up.

My breath caught as Hummel walked in, wearing the tightest brown corded pants I had ever seen, with a mustard short sleeved shirt. I noticed he was wearing that hideous hippo broach again. What was the deal with that? Did he not realise how awful it was? And the clothes. He had to be wearing them just to wind me up. It was like he was sent to purposely annoy me. He turned to write something on the board , and I could see every curve of his ass through the trousers. I looked at his arms as he wrote, impressed with how strong they actually were. The rest of him was quite slim and tight, but he obviously had strength. His bicep bulged as he wrote, and I shook my head and looked down at my book, trying to concentrate.

"Right, let's get started. It's good to have you all back again today. Some of you didn't seem all that keen on the class yesterday and I didn't know if certain people would return.

He looked at me as he said that. I looked down at my book again, pretending I didn't know it was aimed at me. He grabbed something out of his briefcase, then walked to the teachers desk, sitting down on it and swinging his legs just like yesterday.

"Today, I have brought some newspaper clippings from each of your cases. I am going to hand them out and I want you to study them carefully. Some of you didn't have much media coverage. In fact..." He hopped off the desk and handed a weedy looking guy with lank hair and acne a tiny bit of paper. "Todd, I could only find this much on your case. It turns out that angel faced murderers are a bit more exciting than a small town drug dealer."Again, he looked at me. I glared at him. A slow smile spread on his lips as he noted my anger.

"Is there a problem angel face?"

"I slammed my fist on the table, making everyone jump.

"Don't call me that. And don't talk about my case anymore. Because if you do, then the angel faced killer might just strike again."

He walked over to my desk, and put a huge pile of newspaper cuttings down in front of me.

"Again?"

I narrowed my eyes at his question. Yet again, he was pointing out I didn't do it. I looked into his eyes and clenched my fist. With my other hand , I dug my pen into the table so hard that the tip snapped off.

"Get it into your head Hummel. I'm dangerous. You should be running scared, not mocking me. I killed an innocent old man with my bare hands. All because he was in my way."

Hummel took a pen from his shirt pocket and put it on the table, taking my broken one away from me.

"It seems to me like you are trying to convince yourself you are guilty."

He handed out all the other newspaper cuttings to the class and told us to scribble down notes on what we thought the press were trying to convey about us. What the fuck kind of class was this? I didn't want to do this shit. I sighed, and pushed the cuttings on to the floor, and started doodling pictures on my notebook ten minutes of doing this, I heard him approach my desk again. He bent down right in front of me to pick up the papers, he was definitely doing things on purpose now. I sighed, and slouched back in my chair, trying to get the image of him bending down out of my head. He sat on the corner of my desk and looked at me.

"Have you already forgot about our chat yesterday? The one where I said if you don't get your head down and work hard then you will be out? Because it seems to me like you want to fail... like you are asking for it."

I looked away from his cool gaze and stared at the table, trying desperately to keep the bad thoughts away.

"You are asking for it Anderson."I raised my arms to protect my face as the sixteen stone pierced thug took a swing at my nose. I cried out as his fist connected with my stomach instead. When I reached down to hold my stomach, he swung at my jaw. The crack shot through me like a bolt. I lay on the cold hard prison floor and closed my eyes, knowing there was more to come.

This was my second beating in the week I had been here. I had prepared myself for prison to be hard, but I didn't realise the prison guards would stand around watching me get pummelled like it was some sort of sport. The first beating came just two days after I arrived. As I walked out to the communal area where we would all line up with our trays for dinner, I accidentally looked a guy in the eye. I deserved the beating for that. I had no right to look anyone in the eye they said. I had to go to the prison first aid for twenty four hours after my first beating. I had a black eye, a split lip and a few bruised ribs.

The guy who was punching me was laughing menacingly. The air whooshed out of me as he punched my stomach again.

"You picked up the wrong dinner tray. You wanted this to happen. It's your own fault."I gasped from the blow, and tried to sit up, shakily. I felt like I had been seriously winded. I shook my head , trying to protest.

"But... But they all... They all look the same. I... I didn't know."

I watched in slow motion as his fist slammed into my cheek, knocking me back onto the floor.

"Oh look. The hard man talks back. Let's get one thing clear Anderson, you will never speak to me. Got it?"

I nodded my head just as his foot kicked my shin with brute force. I cried out again and held my leg, breathless with pain. He laughed and kicked my hand covering my shin with the same strength. I winced as I heard a crack and curled up in a ball, waiting for another blow. After five minutes of nothing, I dared to look up. The guy who had just been beating me senseless had disappeared.

I gasped as two police guards dragged me off the floor by my shirt and marched me to the first aid unit again. That second beating was probably one of my easier ones. I escaped with only a dislocated jaw , two broken fingers and various bruises. There was worse to come over the years. Much worse. In fact, I couldn't even count the times I lay in a prison hospital bed, or even my own cell bed and pray for a thug like that to come back and beat me. Because being beat up was one of the easiest things about being in prison.

I stood up from my chair shaking. My hands felt clammy as I desperately tried to think of something else.

"Sit down Mr Anderson."

I looked at Kurt, and shook my head again, my eyes wide with fear. There was no way I could sit here and look at these newspaper cuttings. There was no way I could be in this class. I bolted for the door, and just as I reached out to open it, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I spun around, ready to knock him out, but when I saw the way Hummel was looking at me, I unclenched my fist and steadied my eyes locked with mine as he smiled. A genuine, well meaning smile. He kept his hand on my shoulder and rubbed ever so slightly. It felt reassuring.

"Go and sit back down." His voice was quieter now. I gazed around the classroom and realised that nobody was even paying attention to us. I was living my own terrors, it didn't mean any one else was listening. I looked back at him as he spoke again.

"If you walk out now, they win."

I shook my head again and ran a hand through my hair.

"I don't ... I don't know what you mean."

His hand slowly travelled down from my shoulder to my arm. His fingers were soft and the touch made me tingle all over.

"I see it in your eyes Blaine. It's OK to be scared. But it is not OK to let them win. Go and sit down."

He took his hand away from my arm, and a shiver of disappointment raced through me at having no contact. I looked at the door I was so close to, then back at him.

"Fuck." I cursed as I walked back my desk, sat down , and started scribbling notes from the newspaper cuttings. I felt Hummel's eyes on me a few times during the lesson, but I couldn't look at him again.

The fact that I had even came back and sat down scared me more than what a beating in prison ever could. The fact that when I looked into Kurt's eyes and knew that he was being nothing but kind scared me. I wasn't used to kind people. He had called me Blaine rather than Mr Anderson, and I think it was the first time somebody had used my first name, and used it in kindness since my Mom had been alive.

But probably, the thing that scared me most of all, was the way I felt after he had touched me.


	6. Losing Control - Six

At the end of the lesson, I felt nothing but relief that I had made it through. There were a few times I nearly ran straight for the door , but every time I looked at it, I saw Hummel in my eye line, giving a slight shake of his head.

I gathered up all my books at the end of the day and started heading out of the class. Before I even got near the door, I heard Hummel call my name , just like he had done at the end of yesterday's class. I cursed under my breath and swung round to face him.

"Less of the anger and the curse words Mr Anderson."

I glared at him. I didn't like the way he had called me Blaine earlier. I didn't like the way it made me feel. It made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I was a person who deserved to be called by their first name. So the fact he had went back to formal irked me.

"What do you want this time Hummel?"

I watched as he stuck his hands in his pant pockets, making my eyes linger on his crotch area for just a second. I soon realised my mistake and stared at the floor, waiting for him to speak.

"I just wanted to remind you about tonight."

This made me look up.

"Huh?"

He walked over to his desk and sat down on it, swinging his legs. It annoyed me when he did that. He seemed so happy and carefree. Everything about him set me on edge and it was a horrible feeling.

"Ah. And here was me counting down every second until we saw each other again."

I raised an eyebrow in question but kept my mouth firmly shut. He sighed and shook his head.

"It's Tuesday. I told you when we first met that I would pop round at least once a week on a Tuesday to discuss things and see how you are getting on."

I remembered now. I continued my steely gaze as I answered him back.

"We can skip it. Nothing to discuss."

Now it was Hummel's turn to raise an eyebrow as he looked me up and down.

"The meetings are non-negotiable I'm afraid . And if there is nothing to discuss then we will be done nice and quick won't we? "

I sighed again and cursed. I couldn't help it. Hummel just made me want to swear a lot. I had a sudden realization that he was the first thing or person that had made me feel any sort of emotion for twelve long years.

He hopped off the desk and walked over to the now closed door, opening it wide for me with a smile on his face.

"You really need to work on your social skills. You talk so much I can't even get a word in. You must love the sound of your own voice."

I threw him a filthy look as I thundered past him. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of a reply. I stepped out of the classroom, into the now deserted corridor.

"Mr Anderson?"

I groaned.

"What now?"

I almost spat at him as he stood there beaming at me. He shrugged coyly and looked me up and down again. His eyes lingered on me now, making me feel self-conscious. I ran a hand through my hair, waiting for him to speak.

"I was just going to say how nice you look today. The clothes were a good fit."

My jaw fell open in shock as I looked at him. I couldn't figure out if he was being serious. He smiled kindly and then shut the door, leaving me standing there bewildered. On my way home, I couldn't stop thinking about it. I tried to remember the last time I had a compliment, and I knew it was when my Mum was alive. She died fourteen years ago. I didn't know how to react to Hummel's comment.

I had this weird feeling inside. It felt like... It felt like I wanted to smile. I shook my head , trying to shake whatever the hell it was I was feeling away. This bubble of strangeness was floating up inside me, and it felt unusual. It was a good unusual, but I didn't like it. I just wanted to get back to my motel room now and forget about everything. I needed a smoke.

I sighed as a young Mom with a buggy barged past me. She was talking on her mobile phone and clearly had no disregard for people around her. I was just about to swear at her when I saw her bag that was slung over the back of her shoulder was undone. I glanced around, noting the street was empty and crept up behind her. It was amazing how easy it was to take her purse. It had been sitting right at the top of her bag. I stopped when I had it in my hands and peered into it.

The money inside wasn't a huge amount , but it was enough to get me a few packs of cigarettes. I watched as the woman turned the corner ahead of me , and I took the money from the purse. Just as I was about to toss the purse into the gutter, I cursed, shoved the money back in and ran to catch the woman up. I was breathless by the time I caught up with her. I tapped her on the shoulder and she spun round to look at me, alarm on her face when she realised I had her purse.

"You dropped this. You need to do your bag up."

She looked puzzled as she silently took the purse and counted the money inside. When she looked at me again, she had a smile on her face.

"Wow. There are some decent people in this world. Thank you sir."

I watched as she pushed the purse to the bottom of her bag and did the zip up. She soon disappeared from view and I was left alone with nothing but memories.

 **"Stop" I cried out as the back of my head crashed against the stone wall of my prison cell. "Why are you doing this to me?"**

 **It had been six months of pure hell so far. But being in prison, six months wasn't the same as what it was on the outside world. Time seemed to multiply. It felt like I had been in here six years instead of six months and every single second seemed to drag.**

 **I looked into the eyes of my current tormentor and saw nothing but hate. He grinned at me menacingly as he kneed me full force in the crotch. I bent over in pain, swearing as flames of agony shot through me.**

 **"Because you deserve it. Because in this world, you get three types of people. Decent, evil, and you. You are worse than evil. You killed an old man in cold blood. You picked on the weak."**

 **I tried to stand back up. I had learnt these last months to just keep standing. Whatever they did , however much it hurt... Keep on keeping on.**

 **I scoffed, and looked at him defiantly.**

 **"You have no idea what you are talking about. You shot someone because they were fucking your wife. You have no moral ground to stand on."**

 **I knew instantly it was the wrong thing to say. My head slammed back against the wall as his fist pummelled into my cheek. I could already taste blood. He punched me again in exactly the same place, making me cry out.**

 **"You just keep asking for it. When will you learn to keep your mouth shut?"**

 **I cried out in pain again as his fist drove into my stomach. I couldn't see straight. I spat on the ground, horrified by the blood that came out.**

 **After dinner every night, there was an hour known as free time. We were allowed our doors open and we could wander the jail as we saw fit. It was supposed to be a treat. I begged the police officers to let me have my door locked during free time , but they just laughed at me. Quite often, they would be outside, watching the life get beaten out of me.**

 **I grunted as the brute grabbed a fistful of my hair and brought me close to his face.**

 **"One day soon Anderson, you will be on your knees begging me to beat you up again. Because you have worse coming to you. Believe me. Like I said... decent, evil...and you."**

 **I had thought he was mad at the time. Little did I know that he was right. Like I said before, being beat up was one of the nicer things of prison life.**

I ran through the streets , desperate to be alone with my thoughts. After what seemed like an eternity, I was back at my motel room. I collapsed on the bed and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to think of something else. Anything else. I couldn't keep reliving the past. It had to stop. My breathing was hard and heavy and a sheen of sweat had started covering my body.

Kurt.

It somehow worked. Thinking of him seemed to be edging out all the other messed up thoughts in my brain.

I thought back to when he said I looked nice. He didn't mean it of course. How could he have meant it? No amount of clothes or fancy shower gel would make me resemble a normal human being after many tough years living the convict life.

He looked nice. He looked clean, pure... Too good to associate himself with people like me. Maybe I would ask him tonight why he did this job. Then again, I probably wouldn't. I couldn't be bothered. And I didn't care. Of course I didn't care. Just because he hadn't been far from my mind since I had met him didn't mean anything. It just meant that he must be extra annoying or something.

I made myself some food and then sat there twiddling my thumbs. I decided to have a quick shower. It seemed no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to scrub away the years of prison from my skin. I didn't like feeling grubby around Hummel. I changed into some fresh clothes after the shower, another pair of jeans and the beige jumper. It had turned chilly tonight. I hadn't had a jumper in years. I sat there , marvelling at how soft it felt, when I heard the knock on my door.

I frowned. I wasn't his slave. He had a key and he had used it before. He could do the same tonight.

"If you want to come in, then do it yourself. I'm not moving."

I sat back against the headboard on my bed, my arms bunched around my legs that were up against my chest. I used to sit like this in my cell at night, afraid that somebody , somehow, might have stolen the keys from the prison guards and were out to get me.

It took a few minutes before I heard some keys jangle and in walked Kurt. He was wearing the same as earlier, maybe he had been to a few of us tonight already? I frowned again as he pulled a box in behind him and shut the door.

"What's that?"

He smiled and grabbed a few books from the top of the box, then to my complete astonishment, came over to my bed, pushed me to move over, and sat right next to me. I wanted to get off the bed , but I didn't want to act like he had affected me , so I sat where I was, digging my fingernails into my palm.

"Patience please. You will find out soon enough. First, we need to go over all the boring stuff. We have some forms to fill out and as it's our first official meeting, there is quite a lot to be done. It shouldn't take up as much time in future meetings , but this one will be a drag so..."

I grunted as he handed me a book and I started filling out form after form. After about ten minutes of sitting there in silence, he spoke again.

"You really aren't very welcoming are you? I was expecting to have a freshly baked cake made and tea. I love tea. Don't you wish you were English sometimes so you could just drink all day every day?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, my lips curling in distaste.

"I'm pretty sure that is not all they do. And obviously I'm not used to having company due to being a murderer."

He rolled his eyes and hopped off the bed, walking to the kitchenette. He started boiling some water and grabbed some cups, then rifled through the cupboard to find a packet of biscuits.

"You are so dramatic with the whole murder thing. Give it up. We both know the truth. Milk and sugar?"

My eyes were wide as I watched him potter around.

"Excuse me?"

He shrugged and started heaping sugar and milk into both cups anyway. He clearly wasn't going to say anything else about the murder , so I didn't either. I carried on signing forms, and didn't look up as he tried to hand me a cup.

He sighed after a minute and put it down on the floor on my side of the bed, then he made himself comfortable again next to me and started crunching on the biscuits really loudly. I jumped as he shoved the pack in my face.

"Want one?"

His voice was thick with food. I shook my head and carried on filling out forms.

"Are you offering me my own food?"

My voice was a mumble as I concentrated on the paperwork. He laughed and took a sip of his drink. I hated myself for saying it but I still thought his laugh was one of the nicest things I had ever heard. Only because I wasn't used to laughter. It was odd hearing it.

He shifted his body and somehow ended up nearly touching me. Our legs were hardly a centimetre apart and I could feel the warmth radiating from him.

"Technically it's my food."

I ignored him. He had a point. When I had signed everything he had told me to, I handed it all back to him and then picked up my cup, peering into it like something was going to jump out at me. He laughed again, a softer laugh this time, and nudged me with his shoulder. The unexpected contact made me jump slightly, but I tried to play it down.

"I haven't poisoned it. It's drinkable. Actually, I make the best tea. Seriously. Everyone always tells me I make the best tea. So at least I have one talent hey. That's good. It's always good to know I affect people profoundly with my tea making. "

I tentatively took a sip, failing to hide my appreciation as the sweet hot liquid hit the back of my throat. I hadn't tasted tea like this since my Mom was alive. Now all I needed was a PB + J sandwich and I could imagine nothing bad had ever happened. That we were still a family. I shuddered, and took another sip. He watched me as I drank, but I pretended I didn't notice.

"You like it. I can tell. This is awkward. This means you will always expect me to make the tea every single week and then we are going to get into bad habits and it will be one of those 'no going back' things. We have entered into dangerous territory with my divine tea making."

I drained my cup and looked at him, bewildered.

"Do you ever stop talking?"

He chuckled and started signing all the papers I had just signed. We sat in silence for a good twenty minutes while he filled in questions about me. Sometimes I would look at what he was writing, sometimes , I didn't want to know. He wasn't trying to hide it.

 _ **How has #454 settled into the college course?**_ _  
His attitude is lazy and rude. With more time, hopefully he will settle down._

I scowled at the patronising tone of it all. I hated how I was just a number. I hated how he called me lazy and rude. And I hated how he smirked at me when he caught me reading it, he knew he was winding me up and I was not OK with it.

Just as I was about to ask him to leave, he stood up from the bed, picked the box from the floor up and chucked it on the bed, making me jump up before it landed on me.

"This box is yours."

I folded my arms across my chest and frowned. I frowned a lot. I didn't exactly have an awful lot to smile about.

"I don't want any more shit Hummel. Go and work in a charity shop, because I'm done. And if I want to buy cigarettes when I get my allowance through, then I will. Clear?"

He raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Wow. I'm impressed. That is one of the longest sentences you have said to me. I do work in charity shops in my spare time."

I scoffed and shook my head.

"Of course you do."

He rolled his eyes and carried on talking.

"Yes you can buy cigarette's when you get your money, but I will be taking everything back. Apart from this box. Nobody can take this away from you. ."

The way he was looking at me made me curious. I peered into the box and gasped.

With shaking hands , I took a framed photo of me and my Mom out and stared at it, awestruck. I closed my eyes as I felt burning hot tears threaten to spill over. I took a deep breath, laid the photo to the side and looked at the other stuff.

Pictures of me and my Dad, school yearbooks, a few pieces of my Moms jewellery that wasn't valuable but they were the pieces she had loved the most. When I reached the bottom of the box, I pulled out a few sheet music books, my cheeks going pink as Kurt studied me.

It seemed stupid now, but when I was at school, I loved to play the piano and sing. I sung all the time. I played guitar as well. My Mom sometimes used to make me sing for her, she said I was really talented , but then... She would have said that regardless. She was always praising me and Cooper up. She was a diamond.

"I didn't realise you were musically talented?"

Kurt said it as a question. I ignored him and started putting all the stuff back into the box gently in case it broke.

"Where did you get all this stuff Hummel?"

He smiled, which made me wonder if he smiled all the time. He was the happiest person I had ever come across.

"I've had it for twelve years."

I gasped and looked at him in shock.

"What?"

He nodded, and fingered the box gently.

"Yep. It's been in my loft waiting to be reunited with its rightful owner."

I shook my head and looked at the box, then back at him.

"No... no. That is impossible. All this stuff... Cooper sold it. When I went to jail. He sold the house and everything in it."

Kurt nodded and let his hand fall away from the box.

"Yes. He did sell everything in the house. Everything that was worth money. This stuff, the important stuff, he left in your garage. I took it and he didn't even know. I've been meaning to ask you actually... How is your brother that completely disappeared just after he killed an innocent man and fucked your life up?"

He looked angry. In fact, his jaw was clenched and his breathing heavy, like he was trying to hold something in. It took me a minute to recover from the shock of him knowing it was Cooper.

"I uh... he... I erm ... I don't know. I haven't spoken to him since... Since..."

"Since he did the crime that you done the time for?"

His eyes held a challenge. I didn't know what his game was. I shrugged easily even though my heart was racing.

"I don't know what makes you think that. If he killed Billy, the police would have arrested him."

He scoffed, and I couldn't get over how angry he was at the turn in conversation.

"Not if they had some kid yelling at the top of his voice that he did it. You made their jobs easy. They accepted you did it because it was easier for them. Less paper work I suppose."

I didn't say anything. I looked down at the floor, not knowing what to do. Everything was overwhelming right now. I heard his footsteps walk round the bed towards me, and flinched away when he reached out to touch me. He waited a second, then reached out again, his hand softly on my arm.

"Don't back away from me. I would never hurt you."

I raised my eyes to look at him, my breath catching when I realised his face was only inches away from mine.

"You were an innocent kid Blaine. I have been fighting for you all these years and I'm not going to stop now."

He took his hand away from my arm, leaving me feeling cold , and walked out of my motel room without looking back.


	7. Losing Control - Seven

Unsurprisingly, I didn't get any sleep that night. I sat up for hours, just looking through the box of things Kurt had saved for me. I was overwhelmed. What the hell had happened? How did he know that I hadn't killed Billy? How did he know it was Cooper? None of it made sense.  
Nobody had looked out for me. Not since my Mom had died. It had to be a joke. Hummel was winding me up or something. He had to be. Nobody knew the truth. Nobody knew that Cooper had done the crime. Only me.

I had to find out what the hell he was playing at. I needed to know why he was screwing with me. Was I some sort of pet project or something? I didn't like it. I pushed the box away from me and sat staring at the ceiling for the next hour or two.

I had to hand it to Hummel, he had played me pretty good. For just a moment, I thought he cared. And that was a mistake. I had learnt many years ago that nobody in this world cared. Everyone was out for themselves. I groaned, realising I wouldn't be able to have it out with him until Friday. It was Wednesday and in an hours time I had to make my way to the shitty mechanics course. Every Wednesday and Thursday I had to go and mess around with cars. I had reasoned at the time that it was the only practical I wanted to do and as we had to pick one, it might as well be that. But now I was regretting it. I didn't want to do any of these courses.

I showered , ate some cereal and got changed , ready for my day of hell. I didn't even have Hummel's arse to look at today. I frowned, shaking the thought's out of my head. I didn't want to think about him. I wanted to deal with him. But I had to put him out of my mind until Friday.

I made my way to the garage where I would be spending the next Wednesdays and Thursdays for at least a year, looking at a map. When I came to the garage, I stopped, staring at the sign in shock.

Why the fuck did it say Hummel? This had to be a joke. I stormed in , joining the other three ex convicts. I recognised one of them. He had given me a beating once around six years ago, but after that, he had left me alone. People like him didn't scare me anymore. I had been through too much in jail to be scared by anyone or anything now.

I sighed in relief as an older guy with a baseball cap came over to us. I was expecting to see Hummel after reading the sign.

"Right guys, let's get this going. You are here to learn. If any of you give me any crap, I won't hesitate to run you out of this place with a tyre jack. I expect you all to be grateful for this opportunity at learning a trade. I'm a fair guy. I believe in second chances. But I don't believe in third or fourths, and as this is the second chance for each one of you, treat it wisely. I'm Burt Hummel."

I frowned as he said his name. He reached out to shake our hands. When he came to me last of all, I shook his timidly.

"What's your name son?"

It felt weird that he just called me son. He didn't do that with anyone else. I tried not to gasp as I looked into his eyes, I realised they were the mirror of Kurt's. This had to be his father. I gulped.

"Anderson."

I muttered , looking down at the floor.

He slapped me on the shoulder in a friendly manner.

"We are on first name terms here. So Blaine it is."

I gaped at him, wondering why he bothered asking my name if he knew it anyway, but before I had time to ask, Kurt Hummel came strolling up, standing next to Burt.

I folded my arms and threw my head back, glaring at the ceiling.

"You have got be fucking kidding me."

"Is there a problem?"

I looked at Hummel now, his blue eyes were twinkling with amusement as he stared at me. I wanted to ask him why he was intent on winding me up. Why he seemed to get a kick out of acting like he cared. Why me? But I couldn't. Not with three other jailbirds stood next to me. Everyone was staring at us now and I shrugged my shoulders lazily.

"Just sick of seeing your face everywhere I go, that's all."

Kurt laughed. He didn't have normal reactions like other people. I mean, who laughed when they were being insulted? It was weird.

"Well I hope in time you will learn to tolerate my face. Because as you have probably gathered by now , you will be seeing me a lot. Our three media studies lessons a week combined with two days of mechanics. I'm sure you have figured out that Burt is my Dad and this is his garage. I begged him to let this course happen here and in return for the favour, I agreed I would help him out. So here I am. Oh, and then there is our weekly Tuesday meetings. So yes, it kind of sucks that you feel that way about my face because you sure will be seeing a lot of me."

I frowned again as he chucked some dark blue overalls at me, then chucked the other three their ones as well. Looking at his face now, I realised that I wasn't sick of seeing his face. Not at all. It was the opposite. And that was the reason I was on edge.

I blankly looked at the others as they all started to get changed and stepped into their overalls. I was the only guy who put mine on over my clothes. Burt and Kurt were staring at me like I was some sort of alien.

"What?"

I growled, feeling flushes of anger stirring in me as I was the centre of attention.

"Learning mechanics is hard. You will get hot and sweaty, are you sure you want to stay fully dressed underneath the overalls?"

I nodded my head once , then looked away. What business was it of theirs? They had no right to question my choices. There was no way I was ever getting changed in front of any of them.

 **"I don't care what you do to me any more Connor. I have been beat so many times in this shit hole that it doesn't matter. It doesn't hurt. Nothing does. You all succeeded . You chipped away at me until there was nothing left. I'm done. So beat me. I don't give a fuck."**

 **My breathing was hard and fast as I looked into the eyes of the 6ft dreadlocked guy who had me pinned against the wall. I had been in prison for nearly two years now. Despite all my attempts to stay out of people's way, I still somehow always ended up the target for a good face kicking.**

 **When I asked again and again why they were doing this to me, it was always the same answer. Because I had picked on the weak. Because I had killed Billy. I thought it was pretty hypocritical considering most of these were in here for similar, if not, worse crimes. And I also told them again and again that I hadn't meant to kill Billy, that I just meant to scare him with the photo frame. I mean, I know I hadn't done it at all, but in a way, I believed that Cooper hadn't committed murder either. He hadn't meant to. Billy died in hospital a while later, and it was mainly from the fall , not the blow. But if I ever tried to explain to these brutes that it was the fall that killed him, it made things worse.**

 **I stopped counting after having my jaw dislocated sixteen times. Every single one of my fingers had been broken or rebroke at some point. Most of my toes from being stomped on. My ribs had been cracked no end of times and I couldn't even begin to guess at the black eyes. It was a stupid amount. And as I just said to the great hulking Connor, I didn't care any more.**

 **I had been in this situation too many times to even care what was coming. It didn't matter.**

 **Connor scowled at me, and rammed me into the wall as hard as he could.**

 **"Who said anything about beating you? Do you know why I'm in here?"**

 **I shrugged. I knew exactly why he was in here. He had killed both of his girlfriends when they found out about each other. The whole prison knew what everyone was in for, but I wasn't going to talk about it with him.**

 **"I killed two people shitface. I'm in here for life. They were horrible little two faced bitches who just couldn't help digging deep. And I'm angry. Angry at the world for making me kill them."**

 **I honestly tried not to, but I couldn't help the huge laugh that escaped my mouth at his words.**

 **I clutched my stomach, it felt weird to laugh, even if it was the fake kind.**

 **"You killed them. The world didn't make you. You did it."**

 **He nodded, clearly agreeing with me. Prison really was full of crazy people.**

 **"What exactly about that story do you find funny Anderson?"**

 **I shrugged again, and stared defiantly into his eyes.**

 **"All of it I guess."**

 **It wasn't true. I really didn't find any of it remotely funny. Two girls were dead because of this man. It was tragic.**

 **"I wonder if you will find it so funny when I kill you."**

 **I gulped as I saw his face change into something else. It had danger written all over it. I breathed out in relief when he let me go, and I was just about to dash away when he grabbed hold of my arm.**

 **I didn't know it was coming.**

 **How could I?**

 **I couldn't have ever imagined that I would be stabbed in prison. One pressing thought ran through my head. Where did he get the weapon? How~?**

 **I stared at him in horror as a gurgling sound escaped my throat. I watched as he walked away, and I clutched my stomach, sinking down against the wall.**

 **The pain was like nothing I had ever felt before. It was indescribable. I had been through pain before. The pain of losing parents. The pain of being beaten. The pain of being a general loser. But this was... this was something else entirely.**

 **I lifted my hands away from my stomach, bile rising in my throat as I saw the dark red blood that covered them. White hot pokers felt like they were ripping my body apart. I felt like I was being stabbed everywhere even though I knew I only had one stab wound.**

 **I pressed my hand to my belly again, hoping to stem the flow.**

 **"Help"**

 **My voice was so weak, so feeble, that I wasn't even sure if I had spoken at all.**

 **I gagged slightly as I tasted blood in my mouth.**

 **Then I saw my Mom's face in my head and I closed my eyes. This was a good thing. I should thank Connor. My years of misery would end here. That thought made me so happy that I could have cried.**

 **I let my hands fall to my sides, no longer wanting to stem the flow. I wanted to die. I laid down on the floor, and even though the pain was way worse this way, I stretched my limbs out, hoping to bleed to death faster. I wasn't sure how long I was on the floor for. It could have been two seconds, it could have been hours. I had no clue.**

 **I felt calm as I saw a white light, just like they did in movies. The end was near and I was grateful. I started running towards it but it seemed to be getting further and further away.**

 **It was only when I woke up, hooked up to all sorts of hospital machines in the prison ward, a huge white dressing covering my stab wound, that the real pain started.**

 **This hell for me would never end.**

Kurt took two of the convicts over to work on a car and Burt took me and the last guy. Each team were shown some various basics of a car and how to do certain things. By the end of the day, I was a hot mess. But I tried not to show it. I didn't want anyone knowing they had been right, that working in the overalls and my clothes would be too much.

I kept sneaking glances at Hummel, and to my disappointment, he didn't look at me once. I don't know why I felt disappointed. He was giving me exactly what I wanted, no attention.

So why, as I walked out of the garage that day after not having spoken to Kurt at all, did I feel empty?


	8. Losing Control - Eight

The next morning, I showered and dressed in record time, then made my way to the garage. I was still fuming over yesterday. It made me even more certain that the way Hummel had been acting like he gave a shit wasn't true at all. How could he go from acting like my saviour one day to ignoring me the next.

I had made sure I was in the garage before the others were there. I breathed a sigh of relief as the only one that greeted me when I arrived was Burt. He handed me a pair of overalls and I looked at him unsure.

"Bathroom?"

I kind of grunted at him. I still wasn't used to forming proper sentences and I really had no need to talk much to anyone. To my relief, he seemed to understand what I meant. He smiled kindly and pointed me in the right direction . I nodded in thanks, then headed for the room, shutting the door behind me.

I frowned as I started peeling my clothes off. I hated the fact that Hummel had been right yesterday. The fact that by the end of the day I was sweating right through both sets of clothes annoyed the crap out of me. I hated it when other people were right.

I folded my clothes up neatly and put my legs through the overalls, jumping around like an idiot. As I landed firmly on both feet, I jumped as the door opened , slamming into my side.

"Oh my gosh , I'm so sorry. I didn't know anybody was..."

I scowled into the face of Hummel who was standing at the door gaping at me. Why didn't this dude ever leave me alone? His hand was on the door handle, and I blew out in relief as he started shutting the door, but to my complete horror, he opened it up fully and walked into the tiny bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I was too shocked that he was in here with me to even notice the look on his face as he looked at my stomach. It was only after a minute, I realised what he was staring at. My cheeks went red as I pulled the overalls completely up, covering my body.

"Get the fuck out."

Kurt opened his mouth to say something, and I looked away, unable to stand the look of pity in his eyes.

"Blaine... I... I... you... the scars."

I shook my head, hoping that this was just a fucked up nightmare. The fact that Hummel with his smooth complexion and perfectness had just seen my battered body made me tremble with rage. It was exactly what I had wanted to avoid, which is why I asked for the bathroom in the first place.

"Get out Hummel."

My jaw clenched in anger as I stared at the stony white wall. I felt like I wasn't breathing. It was only when I heard the door open and click behind me and I knew he had gone that I breathed out a sigh of relief.

I leant back against the cold wall and ran a hand through my curls.

"Shit. Shit shit shit."

I banged my head against the wall, hating the fact I would have to go back out there and face his pity. I took a deep breath and decided to man up, at least I wouldn't have to work with him today.

I slowly made my way back out over to where Burt and now Kurt were standing. The other three had arrived when I was in the bathroom and had already changed into their overalls. How nice it must be for them to have perfect, unmarked bodies. I pretended not to notice the look Kurt gave me as I focused on Burt.

"Right guys, It's great to have you back today. You actually all did very well yesterday, you impressed me. Blaine, I want you to switch teams with Dwight today, you will be with Kurt and Dwight will be with me. You seem to know more than Kurt does about these cars so I was hoping you could teach him a thing or two."

I sighed and muttered a curse word under my breath. To be fair , Kurt looked even less thrilled about it than I did.

I walked over to stand next to 'Beef' my new team mate while Dwight stood where I had just been. 'Beef' was so called because of his sheer size. He didn't resemble a human, he was much more just like solid muscle. 'Beef' put his hand up, making us all look at him in confusion. Burt chuckled and looked at the man.

"It's not school . You don't have to raise your hand. What's up steak?"

Kurt nudged his Dad and cleared his throat.

"It's Beef."

Burt shrugged.

"Same thing."

I watched the exchange with interest. They seemed to have an easy going relationship. If I was capable of emotion, I would have found it quite endearing.

"I decided I'm dropping out."

Everyone stared as Beef stripped out of his overalls and got into his clothes.

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"Any reason why Beef?"

The man nodded .

"Yeah. I just don't want to do this shit. And I'm hungry."

I could tell by the way he was acting that he was obviously stoned or drugged up. I sighed again. He was wasting everyone's time with this shit.

"You do realise if you drop out, I have to report this and it could result in you losing your parole?"

Beef shrugged and chucked the overalls at Burt, walking out of the garage without another word. Burt put the overalls down and clapped his hands once loudly, making me jump.

"Right, looks like it's just you two today then." He gave Kurt a smile and looked at me warily. I tried to look uninterested. Burt looked at his two guys and gestured for them to follow him.

I frowned at Kurt, who was still looking at me with pity.

"Come on then, let's go and get some work done."

I followed him over to an old rusty car, and caught him looking at me again.

"Stop."

I growled, picking up a tool case.

He shrugged and leant against the car.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like I'm some sort of monster or... Or something to feel sorry for. Forget what you saw."

Kurt patted the car next to him, and I walked over grudgingly, leaning against it alongside him.

"I didn't mean to barge in uninvited. I just... I saw the door wasn't locked and it's usually only me and my Dad here so I had no clue you were in there. I'm sorry. But I can't just forget what I saw."

I frowned and studied my shoes.

"Well you should. I don't want your pity."

I gasped as I felt his hand clasp over the top of mine. I didn't know how to react, so I didn't say or do anything. Besides, I would never admit it, but his hand on mine felt good. Comforting.

"Pity is the last thing I feel. I think you are the bravest person I have ever met in my life."

I glanced at him quickly, and looked away when I realised his hypnotic eyes were staring right into mine.

"And the other thought that went through my mind was how sexy you were."

This made me look at him again. I frowned, trying to suss him out.

"Are you screwing with me?"

He chuckled, and I didn't know if it was just my imagination, but it looked like his cheeks were going pink.

"I have definitely thought about screwing you. Now even more so after seeing that delicious body."

His hand left mine and he walked to the back of the car, leaving me standing there with my mouth open in shock.

"That's not... I didn't mean... I meant are you fucking around? Not fucking. Oh shit. As in... you are taking the piss right?"

I joined him at the back of the car, and he smirked , looking me up and down.

"I can guarantee you I'm not taking the piss. Have you never had a compliment before?"

I shrugged.

"The last person to say anything nice to me was my Mom. "

Kurt looked sad for a moment, and stepped close to me, resting an arm on my shoulder.

"Well take it from me Blaine, you are seriously hot. I find it hard to look at you sometimes. Your eyes are like this huge goldeny greeny maze of wonder and your hair is just..."

He trailed off and I held my breath as he reached up and fingered a curl softly. I was proud of myself for not flinching away. Usually when somebody went to touch me, they wanted to cause pain.

His face was just inches from mine as he gazed at my hair, still touching it gently. I couldn't help but stare at his lips, and just for a moment, I wondered how soft they would be if I kissed them. I shook the thought out of my head and pushed him away in horror. Why was he touching me like that? Why was he making me have those thoughts? I knew all too well that there was no such thing as a gentle, romantic kiss. It was all bollocks made up for TV shows and movies.

 **I clutched my side as I hobbled back to my cell. Three stabbings in six months. Never bad enough to kill me, just enough to scare me. I soon figured out it was pretty easy for them to conceal a razor blade so they could stab it into me and watch me bleed. The officers and guards as usual, didn't give a fuck. In fact, they found it made good entertainment for their otherwise boring working day.**

 **The first time I had been stabbed and woke up to find I was still alive was awful. The pain I felt at knowing I still had to live this miserable existence was way worse than the pain from the wound. The second time I was stabbed, I begged my tormentor to kill me. I begged him to plunge the blade into me deeper, but he wouldn't. He just laughed at my desperate pleas and walked away.**

 **This latest one I was recovering from had just left me numb. I didn't feel anything anymore. Of course, in between the stabbings, I had been beat a few times for good measure. I had learnt not to say anything now. I just let them do it. Nothing I said or did made any difference to these people.**

 **I collapsed on my bed in relief that I had made it back to my cell. It was free time, the time of day I hated the most , and I had been made to go for a walk on the advice of the medical staff. I had only been released from the hospital wing two days before.**

 **I groaned as somebody walked into my open cell. The last thing I needed right now was a beating or another stabbing. Although on the bright side, I was still so weak from the previous one that maybe this would finish me off.**

 **I didn't look at the face of whoever it was now standing in front of me. I didn't care. They all came in to do the same thing. To give me hell. It didn't matter who it was.**

"Y **ou know... The rumour going round right now is that you're not as hard as you make out. You may have killed an innocent helpless old man because you are a weak little fuck, but word on the grape vine is you are still a virgin."**

 **I scowled , looking at the floor. This was definitely a new turn of events. One I didn't like the sound of. I didn't say anything.**

 **"It makes sense really, I mean... You've been in here since you were sixteen. It's sad really, that you didn't find a nice lady friend to lose it with before you smashed an old mans skull in. Or a nice man friend of course. Because the other rumours are that you're gay. A friend of a friend on the outside relays some information back to me at every visit. And I find your story such a fascinating one."**

 **As he spoke, I knew I recognised the voice. This was the guy who had stabbed me the second time. Another six foot brute with a skull and crossbones tattooed on his neck. I tried to keep my breathing steady as I continued to look at the floor.**

 **"I definitely think it's about time you saw what you were missing. Nobody capable of killing a man should still be a little virgin. It's pathetic."**

 **This got my attention. I looked up at him in alarm.**

 **"What? No... no... I'm not. I'm not a virgin. Get away from me. You don't scare me."**

 **My heart was beating so fast it felt like it was going to burst out of my chest. I sighed with relief as the brute chuckled and walked over to the doorway. It was only when he slammed it shut then turned to face me did I really panic. This wasn't like a beating or a stabbing. This was something else entirely. Something that I knew I wasn't strong enough for. I stood up from the bed and tried to dodge past him , reaching for my cell door. He laughed and pushed me to the floor hard. I cried out in pain as I felt a stitch from my wound rip open. I tried to scramble up again, but before I even managed to even sit up, he was on top of me, pinning me down.**

 **I screamed out for help as he wildly grabbed at my pants, trying to force them down. Of course nobody came. Nobody ever did.**

 **I had no chance against him. He was feet taller than me and probably three times my body weight. All I could do was silently sob as he clawed at me, taking the last thing that was well and truly mine away from me forever. It must have only been five minutes, but that first time felt like it would never end. The pain and humiliation never did.**

 **The pain and humiliation would stay with me forever.**

Kurt was staring at me in concern after I pushed him away.

"Blaine, I'm not messing with you. You're gorgeous. You should believe it."

I stared at him, feeling sick at the memories I had just played out in my head. I silently gathered some tools and started working on the car, with no clue what I was supposed to be doing. Kurt watched as I worked.

"I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable. I'm your sort of teacher, there aren't any rules on it because we are all adults and it's not really a proper school or college , But I shouldn't really be saying things like that. I just wanted to know you are worth something, that's all. And one day, I am sure you will find a nice wife or... or whatever who will tell you the same thing and make you feel that way every single day."

I looked at him as he grabbed a spanner and walked over, sitting next to me at the car.

"I'm gay."

I didn't know why I felt I had to tell him this. I just did. It needed to be said. The words were out of my mouth before I had even realised what I was saying. Kurt tried, but failed to hide the grin on his face at my news. I wanted to change the subject. I felt embarrassed. I didn't know how to handle any of these feelings that were churning away inside me.

"You smile all the time. How the fuck can someone be so happy?"

Kurt looked momentarily surprised at the change in subject, but his smile grew even wider as he answered me.

"I just am. Life is good. And my main mission in life right now is to get to you to smile. I haven't seen you crack out of that whole defensive grump mode you play so well yet. You're a tough one."

I grimaced as he started hammering the car with the spanner. I looked at him like he was insane.

"It's a fucking spanner. You can't hammer a car with a fucking spanner."

I shook my head and snatched the tool away from him. He poked me gently on the arm and stuck his tongue out.

"I know. I was just trying to make you smile. I clearly need to work on it."

"Clearly."

I turned away from him before he had the chance to see the smallest of smiles tugging at my lips.

Kurt Hummel was something else.


	9. Losing Control - Nine

For the rest of the day, I tried to focus on anything but Hummel's ass. Or his face. Or his arms. OK , so all of him was bothering me right now. The fact that he thought nothing of working so close to me that our bodies were almost touching set me on edge.

And he didn't shut up. He just talked about anything and everything while I listened. By the end of the day, our car was way more fixed up than Burt's team, but it had only been me doing all the work. I seemed to have a natural talent for mechanics, and I felt embarrassed when Burt started praising me up. I wasn't used to praise.

I left the garage quickly without even saying bye, and hurried home. The more time I spent with Kurt, the more my head got muddled. He just didn't seem like he was a real person. He certainly wasn't like anyone I had ever met. I was annoyed that he seemed to be deliberately looking better and better each time I saw him. Or maybe it was the fact that I just thought he was hotter each time I saw him. I shook my head as I entered my motel room. No. I was Blaine Anderson. I didn't do feelings.

When I fell asleep that night, I dreamt of Kurt. Nothing even happened in the dream, he was just there. I woke up on Friday morning ready to get the day over with. I had Math and Media Studies again. I wanted to get today out of the way so I could have the weekend to myself again. To take control of the thoughts swimming around in my head. I needed space from Hummel. He was confusing me and I didn't like feeling out of control.

Math was a complete snooze, I had already aced all this work back when I was a twelve year old. I walked into Media Studies a bit later than what I usually did. Not so late that I was late for class, just late enough to not be the first one in. I didn't want to be alone with Kurt. I didn't want to feel anything.

To my complete and utter annoyance , Hummel made us look at the headlines of our cases again and forced us to write our own headlines. He wanted us to role play and imagine if we were a reporter writing about our own case. All I could think about was getting him in the bedroom and doing some other kind of role play. I hurriedly shook the thought out of my head, alarmed that I was thinking about him in those situations.

For my work, I wrote about how Blaine Anderson was a cold-hearted killer who had no compassion and no soul. When Hummel was walking around the room, looking over everyone's shoulder at their work, he sighed and shook his head at mine, before walking back to the front desk.

The afternoon just seemed to drag, and my pants were feeling tight and uncomfortable with the thoughts of Hummel in my head.

At the end of the day, everybody started filing out of the classroom, and Kurt, just like he had done in the other Media lessons, called me back. I sighed and cursed as I walked over to the desk he was sitting on. He really didn't grasp people's moods all that well. Surely he could sense that I wanted to be left alone.

"Is this going to be an everyday thing whenever I do this shitty class? Because if you are going to call me back all the time then I'm just going to have to switch classes."

For some reason, my words amused him. His eyes sparkled as he looked me up and down, making me feel nervous. I felt like he could sense I had been thinking about him in a dirty way. I felt hot as I realised that I really would like to get dirty with him. Well, I wouldn't. I mean... It was Hummel. He was annoying and had been sent into my life with the purpose of sending me crazy so... I didn't really want to think of him like that. But I did. This was exactly why I needed to go home and be by myself. Everything weird.

"Anyone would think you didn't want to talk to me Mr Anderson. You are lucky I'm made of tough stuff, otherwise it would hurt me."

I frowned as he spoke, not wanting to say anything. I waited for him to get to the point. He tugged at his light brown waistcoat that was worn over a hideous bright purple shirt, and smiled at me.

"Anyway, we need to talk about your work today. I expect more from you. We both know that Blaine Anderson is not a cold hearted killer. He's just a softie who has a built up bitter view of the world he lives in, which is understandable. But one day soon, you will crack."

My fists balled up and I dug my nails into the palm of my hand, trying to keep calm.

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You might think you know things, but you don't. You have no clue. You just said those things about Cooper and me being innocent the other night to screw with me. Then at the garage, you acted as if none of it had happened. Well Cooper didn't kill that old man. I did. And the sooner you realise I'm dangerous, the better for you."

I ran a hand through my hair, infuriated that he still had the same amused twinkle in his eye. What did he find funny about this? None of it was funny. It was all shit.

 **Four years and two months. I had been in the same cell, staring at the same walls, doing the same daily routine for four years and two months. I couldn't count the beatings I had been given, but I knew it was over thirty. Some of them mild with just a black eye or a few cuts and bruises, others were severe with dislocated limbs and broken jaws or broken ribs, one beating even landed me internal bleeding. I had been stabbed five times. Oh, and not forgetting the times when sometimes, somebody would just run a razor blade down my back or stomach just for the fun of it. Not to stab me. Just to scar me. And I had plenty of scars. My body was broken.**

 **The other stuff... I blanked it out. I couldn't tell you how many times I had been held down against my will while somebody stripped every bit of emotion from my soul until I was an empty shell of a man.**

 **Every day was a living hell.**

 **I wasn't scared to walk about now during free time, because I expected some sort of assault against me. So the days when it didn't happen were a bonus. I walked out into the yard and stood watching a group of five men doing push ups. Their arms were the size of my torso. I flinched as I felt somebody walk up behind me, wondering what the attack would be today. I shuddered as I realised the person was so close that I could feel their breath on my neck.**

 **"You want a smoke?"**

 **I spun around in surprise, staring at the man behind me. My mouth fell open in shock as I realised it was a prison guard. He held out a cigarette, while he dangled one from his own mouth. I took the white stick from him, out of politeness more than anything. In the four years since I had been here, I couldn't recall one person talking to me without inflicting some sort of pain, let alone offer me anything.**

 **I had never smoked. I didn't know how to smoke. But I followed his lead and put it in my mouth. He lit it up for me, and as I breathed it in , I coughed and spluttered wildly, while the prison guard just stared at me. After a few more puffs, it didn't hurt so much.**

 **I didn't know whether to say thanks or what, so instead, I just nodded my head in gratitude. He nodded back and walked away.**

 **The next day he appeared again and gave me another one. It went on for a week, and it puzzled me no end, but I was already hooked. Taking a cigarette from the guard was the one thing I looked forward to day after day. It was sad that it was the only thing I had to be excited about, but it was also just a fact.**

 **On the seventh day, I took the smoke and dared to look at his name badge.**

 **Officer Schuester. I looked at him as he puffed on his own cigarette, and for some reason I couldn't explain, I knew it would be safe to talk to him.**

 **"How come I've never seen you before last week?"**

 **My voice was kind of shaky. The only thing I was used to doing was crying out in pain. I wasn't used to normal talk. The officer looked at me, surprised I had spoken. I hoped he wasn't angry at me for breaking our mutual daily silence.**

 **"I was transferred here from another jail. I asked for the transfer. When you work in these places, you start to hear rumours. This place is in dire need of change and I'm the one to do it. I know that might sound big headed, but it's true. I've worked at three different prisons now and brought them all into shape."**

 **I didn't really know what to say to that, so I just sucked on my cigarette, relishing the poisonous smoke as it filtered into my body. I knew smoking could kill you, and that just made me want the smokes even more. I was surprised when Officer Schuester spoke again despite my silence.**

 **"What I'm trying to say Anderson, is that nothing bad will go on under my watch."**

 **I thought back, and realised with a sudden jolt that I hadn't been attacked at all in the last week. Maybe I hadn't noticed because I was too busy daydreaming about cigarettes, but it was a weird realisation. My four years had turned me bitter, and despite the fact that Schuester was the only decent person I had met in this place, I scoffed.**

 **"You can't control everything. You're not God. And bad stuff, that's an understatement. The things that go on here, you wouldn't wish them on the demons that occupy hell."**

 **I shuddered, and took another long draw on my smoke. Officer Schuester nodded as he put out his own cigarette.**

 **"You are right. I can't control everything. I have to take at least one day off a week. My wife Emma has just had a baby and she gets on to me for spending too much time at work. And when I am here, I can't have my eyes trained on every part of the prison for the entire time. Which is why I want you to take some self-defence lessons. Maybe Krav Maga or boxing or something. Maybe both."**

 **I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he was for real. I felt a stab of jealousy at the look in his eyes when he mentioned his wife. That was what real love looked like.**

 **"There is a small problem with that Officer Schuester, I'm in jail. And I'm in here for the next seven years and ten months."**

 **A chill ran down my spine every time I thought of how much longer I had to be in this hell hole.**

 **"Somehow, I think it's against the rules to occasionally pop out because I fancy going to a self-defence class. You would lose your job for letting me and I would get even more time behind bars."**

 **Schuester laughed and shook his head.**

 **"Well obviously. Which is why I will hire somebody to come and teach the class here a few times a week. I mean, we get to have an art teacher come in and things like that, so I will make we have enough funds for somebody to come and do this. The sooner the better, I will put your name down so you are first on the list and we should the have someone here by next week. Boxing and Krav Maga. I might even learn a thing or two if I sit in on the classes."**

 **I tried not to let my spirits lift at the thought of learning some self-defence. I had learnt long ago not to get excited about anything. If I was being honest, I didn't think I would learn enough so I would get left alone, but it couldn't hurt to try it out.**

 **"And while I'm here, I should probably tell you that I can't keep sharing my cigarettes with you. It's a dirty habit which my wife would kill me if she knew about, but keeping an eye on you lot all day drives a man to it."**

 **I knew that he was the first person to speak to me like a human being at the prison, but I still felt angry at the thought of having my one joy taken away from me.**

 **I put my smoke out and folded my arms across my chest.**

 **"Wow. You get a guy addicted to smoking and then take it away just like that."**

 **Schuester laughed.**

 **"You having one cigarette a day hardly counts as an addiction. Actually Anderson, I was going to suggest you get a job. Then you can pay your own way and cigarettes are one of the things the prison allows you to buy with the money you earn. Of course, it's not real 'outside world' money, but in here, you have no need for cash really. But it will get you a packet or two of cigarettes every week."**

 **I couldn't help my eyes lighting up at the thought of having cash to buy my own cigarettes. It would be a luxury. One I desperately needed to survive. There was just one problem though. I had applied for jobs here before, with no luck. The guards liked to give the lifers the jobs. Maybe because they were scared of them or something.**

 **"It's your lucky day, A cleaning job has just become available. Four hours a day , every day. A thorough job has to be done mind, no slacking. It's yours if you want it."**

 **I nodded my head mutely, trying to take everything in. And trying to figure out how the hell he seemed able to read my thoughts.**

 **"In that case, I'll tell the officer on duty tomorrow to let you out of your cell at tennish and show you what to do. It's my day off tomorrow, so you better take these."**

 **He chucked me a half filled packet of cigarettes and a lighter, while I clutched them with disbelief written over my face.**

" **I expect you to make those last until you can afford to buy your own."**

 **And with that , he walked off, leaving me standing there with a half full packet of smokes and a beat in my heart that I hadn't felt for four long years. Maybe things really would change now.**

"You are not dangerous. You're firm assurances that you killed Billy doesn't make it true. You are no more of a killer than I am. Now stop with the bullshit."

I glared at Hummel. Where did he get the right to talk to me like this? Why did he save all his crap for just me?

"You stop. Stop with the therapist talk. I'm done. I'm over it."

I wanted to walk out, I really did, but the way he was still smiling was really irritating. My feet were glued to the spot as I watched him.

"I don't think you are done with it. I think you want me to keep telling you that you are an innocent man. And I will keep telling you. I'm annoying like that. Have a good weekend Mr Anderson."

He hopped off the desk and walked over to the whiteboard, rubbing off the days work. I followed him, my jaw set in a hard line, my eyes glinting with anger.

"What makes you so sure Hummel?"

I had to know. I had to know how he knew my story. He carefully put the board rubber down, then turned to face me.

"I joined your high school a few days before you were arrested. Of course, you had long since left school by the time I had arrived, but I saw you in yearbooks. I even saw you around town once or twice. The news of your arrest hit the school hard. A few people in the older years who knew Cooper started saying it didn't sound like something you would do. They all said it sounded like Cooper, the bad Anderson brother. I kept track of things from afar. Just before your trial, word was going around that you were going to plead guilty. People started to change their opinions then. They started to think you must have done it. Why would anyone confess to a crime they didn't commit?"

He paused, looking at me for an answer. I just kept my steely gaze on him and gave away nothing. Eventually , he carried on.

"You sent shock waves through the community. You, the sweet little Momma's boy, the grade A student, the little charmer, a cold blooded killer. I never believed it. When everybody around me started changing their minds and saying how there must have been a streak of evil in you that they never noticed, I didn't buy it. I became fascinated with the case. So I took it upon myself to visit Cooper at your house. While you were locked up in a youth prison awaiting trial for a murder you didn't commit, Cooper was trying to flog the house and everything in it. I went to the house on the pretence I was a drug seller. I claimed somebody had pointed me in his direction and he actually believed me and invited me in. Your brother was a dumb piece of shit."

I frowned, struggling to believe that he was telling me all this. It was a lot to take in.

"At home, I crushed up some asprin with a powdery , odourless bar soap. I made up some name for the pretend drug and he handed me a wad of cash for the bag before I had even sat down. He had already taken something else that day, his eyes were all glazed over. He didn't take anything from the bag I had given him that night which was a shame, because I would have paid to see your brother sniffing up bar soap in the belief it was a real drug. " He chuckled slightly, then carried on.

"Anyway, I stayed for a long hour listening to him moan about how he needed money so he could start a new life, and then, to my absolute shock, he admitted that he killed Billy. I thought I was going to have to do a lot more work than that, but he just admitted it to me, clearly still high on whatever he had taken earlier. He fell asleep after telling me, and I had a poke around the house for anything worth keeping before your waste of a space brother sold it all, which is how I found the box I gave you in the garage. And that is how I know. I know because the real killer told me. And he didn't even look one bit sorry. He just said it as a fact. Are you still going to deny it?"

My head spun as I tried to take in all the information. Cooper had admitted it? No wonder Kurt had been on my case all along. I stared at him wide eyed, not knowing what to say. Kurt looked at the floor, shifting uncomfortably. When he looked back up at me, I was stunned to see that his eyes were shining with tears.

"I tried to get you out Blaine. Nobody believed me. Cooper fled, you confessed, and the police laughed me out of the station. I had no concrete evidence, just the memory of a visit with a stoned waster. When I found out you were being sent down for twelve years, I cried myself to sleep night after night. I failed you. The only reason I chose this career was with the sole purpose of getting you out of that place. The only one who ever believed me was my Dad. He tried to get people to listen as well, but nobody did. I thought by having a job like this, I would find some way to get you out. But it didn't work. You still served the time. I'm so sorry."

I shook my head and gazed out of the window. I knew I would wake up in a minute. This had to be a dream. A really, fucked up, surreal dream. I looked back at Kurt who was gazing at me with such pain and guilt in his eyes that it hurt me. It hurt me to look at him. It hurt that he was blaming himself when none of this was his fault. I shook my head again and turned away, walking towards the door. I jumped when I heard his voice.

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare fucking walk away from me after all that Blaine. Say something."

I couldn't. I couldn't say anything. I felt dizzy. I reached for the door handle and was just about to open it when I heard his voice again.

"What is it with you and not being able to face up to the truth? You're a coward Blaine."

My hand clutched the door handle so hard , I thought I was going to break it. I cursed as I turned back and walked over to where Hummel stood, feeling a rage inside me so strong I didn't know what to do with myself. He gasped as I shoved him against the white board, his eyes wide with fear. I clenched my fist, wanting to do some damage. I closed the gap between us, my breathing hard and heavy. As I stared at him, I felt his warm breath on my cheek. I raised my arm, ready to hurt him. Ready to get him back for calling me a coward.

He gasped again as my hand reached forward, and instead of punching him, I punched the white board. He gulped as I leaned in closer, and before I even knew what I was doing, my lips were on his. I closed my eyes as I felt him respond. His lips were as soft as I imagined they would be. He tasted faintly of vanilla. Our mouths crushed together harder, I jumped slightly as his arm reached round to my back, pulling me even closer towards him. He softly moaned as our bodies pressed together. My tongue gently pushed its way forward so I could explore his mouth.

I hadn't known it before, but this was what I had been waiting to do. This was why he wound me up so much. I felt all my frustration melting away as I kissed him and he kissed me back, our tongues dancing together. Blood rushed through my veins as his teeth softly bit my bottom lip. I was breathless and panting hard as his hand reached up for my hair. I flinched , thinking he was going to pull it and slam my head against the wall. He noticed my reaction and stopped kissing me, cupped my face, and looked into my eyes.

"I would never hurt you Blaine. I've been waiting for you all these years. I'm not going to hurt you."

He rested his head against mine as I tried to steady my breathing. My heart was racing and I couldn't seem to slow it down. I looked into his eyes and knew that this wasn't real. People didn't act like this, life wasn't this good. I couldn't trust Kurt, I couldn't trust anyone. Why the fuck had I kissed him? How could I have been so stupid?

Kurt looked bewildered and hurt as I pushed his hands away and ran out of the door.

I didn't stop running until I reached my motel room, locked the door behind me and collapsed onto my bed, knowing that my whole world had just changed.

Something was happening inside me that I thought had been buried long ago. I was feeling something. And it scared me.


End file.
